V 


-  y  vlany  a  perfume  brea1 
From  plants  that  wake  when 

others  sleep: 

From  timid  buds  that  keep 
Their  odour  to  themselves 

all  day 

But  when  the  sunlight  dies 
away. 

Let  the  delicious  secret  out 
To  every  breeze  thai  roams 
about  " 


EVENING    PRIMROSES. 


[Sef  page  32. 


OTROLLS    BY    STARLIGHT 
^     AND    SUNSHINE      *      * 


BY 

W.  HAMILTON  GIBSON 

AUTHOR   OF    "PASTORAL  DAYS"    "HIGHWAYS  AND   BYWAYS"   ETC. 


Illustrates  b£  tbe  Sutbor 


"  The  truth  of  Nature  is  a  part  of  the  truth  of  God ;  to  him 
who  does  not  search  it  out,  darkness  ;  to  him  who  does,  infinity  " 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER     &      BROTHERS,     FRANKLIN      SQUARE 
1891 


Copyright,  1890,  by   IlARI'ER  &  BROTHERS. 
All  rights  reserved. 


a.  a. 


"A  HEALTHY  MAN  IS  THE  COMPLEMENT  OF  THE 
SEASONS.  AND  IN  WINTER  SUMMER  IS  IN  HIS  HEART. 
THERE  IS  THE  SOUTH.  THITHER  HAVE  ALL  BIRDS  AND 
INSECTS  MIGRATED,  AND  AROUND  THE  WARM  SPRINGS 
IN  HIS  BREAST  ARE  GATHERED  THE  ROBIN  AND  THE 
LARK." 


' '  Every  walk 
is  a  sort 
of  crusade 


preached  by  some  Peter  the 
Hermit  within  us,  to  go  forth 
and  reconquer  this  Holy 

Land  from 

the  hands  of 

the  infidels." 


A  MIDNIGHT  RAMBLE  . 
NIGHT  WITCHERY  .  .  . 

BIRD  NOTES 

BIRD  CRADLES  .... 
PREHISTORIC  BOTANISTS 
THE  WILD  GARDEN 


61 

9' 
no 


INDEX ,87 


Let  us  not  underrate  the  Ta/ne  of  a   fact. 
It  uill  one  day  flower  in  a  truth." 


I'AUK 

Frontispiece 
1 1 


EVENING  PRIMROSES 

SLEEPING  DAISIES 

SLEEPY-HEADS  AND  NIGHT-CAPS 

IN  THE  LAND  OF  NOD  (Desmodium  and  Partridge-pea)  .  . 
AWAKE:  LOCUST  (Locust,  Melilot,  Lupine,  and  Oxalis).  .  . 
ASLEEP:  LOCUST  (Locust.  Melilot,  Lupine,  and  Oxalis) .  .  . 

NASTURTIUMS  AT  NIGHT 

SLEEPING  POPPIES 

DROWSY  FRINGES  (Asters  and  Fringed  Gentian) 
TWILIGHT  HONEYSUCKLES 

THE  MOTH'S  Kiss 

FLOATING  PONDWEED 

THE  PENITENT  "!MPATIENS" 

TAIL-PIECE 42 

NIGHT  WITCHERY 45 

THE  FRAGRANT  MIST 48 

A  MISTY  MOONLIGHT si 

POOR,  MALIGNED,  FEATHERED  GRIMALKIN  !      .     .     .  > 53 

TAIL-PIECE 57 


o  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

o 

PAGE 
"BIRDS   IN   THE    BUSH"  .       .       . 

HAUNT  OF  THE  PHCEBE  . 

A  TREE -TOP  SINGER. 

THE  BROWN  THRASHER      .... 

THE  BOBOLINK  AT  HOME   . 

WIDE-AWAKE  DAY-DOZERS.     .     .     . 

THE  ARTFUL  "DRUMMER".  84 

TAIL-PIECE 

THE  HANG-BIRD'S  NEST.     .     . 

THE  "POLITICIAN"  .    . 

IN  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  COON   .     .     . 

VISITORS  TO  THE  CATERPILLAR  TENT  98 

"No  ROSE  WITHOUT  A  THORN"  100 

A  SNAKE-SKIN  SPECIALIST 102 

THE  REDSTART'S  NEST .104 

THE  DANDELION  THIEF .105 

FERN-WOOL  GLEANERS 107 

HAUNT  AND  HOME  OF  THE  REDWING no 

To  FEATHER  THE  NEST \\} 

ALLEN'S  HUMMING-BIRD  AT  HOME  (Tail-piece) 116 

THREE  INSECT  BOTANISTS  (Comma,  Semicolon,  and  White  J.  Butterflies)  1 19 

GLACIAL  BOTANISTS I2"> 

THE  BUTTERFLY  OF  THE  UMBEL  FAMILY 129 

AN  EXPERT  ON  THE  MUSTARD  FAMILY  .     - 1 32 

A  BOTANIST  THAT  KNOWS  BEANS 134 

DISCRIMINATING  "SKIPPERS" 136 

A  RANDOM  POSY 141 

THE  BUTTERFLY  OF  THE  FIGWORTS 14^ 

PAST  AND  PRESENT  (Tail-piece) • 149 

A  WILD  GARDEN ^ 

WHITE  CYPRIPEDIUM .  iss 

A  GROUP  OF  ORCHIDS  (Spiranthes,  Calopogon,  Goodyera,  and  Pogonia)  isy 

INDIAN-PIPES ,50 

THE  HAREBELI ,5, 


ILLUSTRATIONS.  g 

PAGE 

THE  FALSE  FOXGLOVE 162 

THE  SNEEZE-WEED 165 

A  CLUMP  OF  LUPINES 167 

A  FRAGRANT  GROUP 171 

FIRE-LILIES 176 

WHITE  FRINGED  GENTIAN 179 

SOLOMON'S-SEAL  (Tail-piece) 186 


"/  shall  be  a  benefactor  if  I  conquer  some   realms  from   the  night ; 

if  I  report  to  the  gazettes  anything  transpiring  about   us   at   that  season 

worthy  of  their  attention;   if  I  can  show  men   that  there   is  some  beauty 
awake  while  they  are  asleep ;  if  I  add  to  the  domains  of  poetry." 


A  MIDNIGHT ' 


To -night  I  bunt  ye  darkly  nge  wode, 

Fine  sporte  mine  scball  bee, 
Where  deere  and  fox  do  brush  ye  dew 

And  glow  tbir  eies  to  me. 
* 

'Mine  be  ye  hawlets  eies  to -night, 
Ye  sailynge  moone   my  son  tie, 
Ye  glo-bngge  for  my  I  ante  me  brite, 
And  hwnanitie  my  gunne." 


MIDNIGHT  RAMBLE 


knew  the  daisy  as  no  bot- 
anist had  ever  known  it  before  him. 
The  flower  is   immortalized  in  his  tender  verse. 

"And  ever  I  love  it  and  ever  like  new 
And  ever  I   schall  till  that  mine  hart  die," 

he  exclaims,  with  the  simple  joyousness  of  a  child  with  its  daisy 
chain,  and  herein  has  he  set  a  worthy  text  for  all  the  botanists 
and  nature  students  present  and  to  come,  if  they  would  gather 
the  higher  harvest  of  their  calling. 


STARLIGHT  AND    SUNSHINE. 

What  is  the  aftermath  which  the   poet   gleans  in 
his  neighbor's  field? 

"A  second  crop  thy  acres  yield, 
Which  I  gather  in  a  song," 

sings  Emerson.     That  is  a  poor  and  lifeless  botany 
that  is  not  written  full  with  songs. 

Chaucer's  daisy  was  his  favored  companion;  his 
devotion  was   unremitting.      He    met   its    opening 
fringes  at  the  dawn ;  he  lingered  by  it  as  it  closed 
its  eye   at   twilight.      Sleeping   or   waking,  noon    or 
midnight,  he  could  give  an  account  of  his  protegee  for 
every  hour.     How  few  of  the  proud  followers,  of  Lin- 
naeus know  how   their   erudition    is    mocked   in 
the    meadow    masquerade,  or   what    their 
hard -named   minions    are    up    to    in 
the  dark  hours  ! 

My  first   midnight    walk    was    a 
revelation,  and    a   severe   shock    to 
my  comfortable    self-conceit.      The 
woods    and    meadows    had    been    full   of 
faces  that  I  had  known  and  welcomed  famil- 
iarly for  years   in   my  daily  walks.      But  when 
I   sallied  forth   with  my  lantern  that  night,  I 
stepped  from    my   threshold   upon    foreign 
sod.      I   found    no    greeting  nor   open 
palms,  and   I  lost  my  way  as  though  in 
a  strange  land.      Indeed  "is  not  the  mid- 
night like  Central  Africa  to  most  of  us  ?" 

As   I  stood   in  perplexity  scanning  my   sur- 
roundings in  the  meadow  a  strange  form  closely 
hooded  beneath  its  folded  leaves  seemed  to  mur- 
mur at  my  elbow,  and  I  listened. 
"Say  not  that  you   know  a  single   one   of  us,"  it 
said,  in  a  roguish  clover-scented  whisper.     "  It  is  not 


A    MIDNIGHT   RAMBLE. 

enough,  homo  sapiens,  to   note  our  form,  our 
anatomy,  the  color  of  our  raiment,  or  hang  a 
Latin   tag  about  our  necks,  or  to  check   us 
off  upon  your  proud  list  and  lay  us  on  the 
shelf  in   the   musty  hortus  siccus  of  your  self- 
complacency.      No;   leave   us  to  our  pleasant 
dreams,  omnivorous    mammal,  get   thee    to   the 
hay-mow ;  there  is  thy  garden,  there  thou  wilt 
find   thy  sympathetic  friends   and   thy  greet- 
ing."     Such    was    the    burden    of    the    silent 
slumberous  murmur  floating  all  about  me  in 
the  tangle  of  fragrant  dreams  dispelled  in  my 
onward   tread.     But  the  eager  pupil   of  my 
inward  eye  was  even  now  converted,  and 
having  wet  my  knees   in   the   dews   in 
fitting  propitiation   of  humility,  I   was 
welcomed   again,  and   opened    a   fresh 
humble    page    in    my   botany.      And 
there  was  much  to  chronicle.     In  what- 
ever  direction    I    might  look  over  the 
broad    meadow    I    found    the    same 
strange  complexion   everywhere  to  the 
limits  of  my  vision,  and  what  "  a  pleas- 
ing land  of  drowsy -head  it  was!" 

"We  are  a'  nodclin',  nid-nid-noddin'," 

seemed  the  universal  lullaby.  What  a 
convocation  of  nightcaps  and  sleepy- 
heads ! 

The   clovers    are    indeed    a   drowsy 
family;   they   keep    regular    hours,  and 
make   a  thorough  business   of  their  slum- 
ber—  red  clovers  with  their  heads  tucked 
under  their  wings,  as   it  were,  the  young 
blossom  clusters  completely  hooded  beneath 
the   overlapping   upper   pair   of  leaves,  and 


l6  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

every  individual  leaf  below  bowed  with  folded  palms.  The  white 
clovers  were  similarly  well  brought  up,  and  continued  their  ves- 
pers through  the  livelong  night,  their  little  praying  bands  to  be 
seen  everywhere  along  the  path.  The  yellow  hop  clover  played 
all  sorts  of  antics  with  its  leaves  without  seeming  rhyme  or 
reason.  The  tall  bush  clover,  rising  here  and  there  among  the 
slumberous  beds,  presented  a  complete  surprise,  being  entirely 
changed  from  its  diurnal  aspect,  the  ordinary  generous  leafy 
spread  of  foliage  now  assuming  the  shape  of  an  upright  wand, 
each  three -foliate  leaf  being  raised  upon  its  stem,  with  the  leaf- 
lets folded  inward,  clasping  the  maternal  stalk.  It  had  its  arms 
full  indeed,  and  seemed  conscious  of  its  heavy  responsibility.  The 
trailing  ground-nut  vine  and  the  delicate  wild  bean  were  hardly 
recognizable  in  their  odd  night-dress;  and  the  desmodiums  at 
the  border  of  the  woods  presented  a  singular  contrast  of  drooping 
listlessness,  with  each  leaflet  hanging  as  vertically  as  a  plummet. 
I  sought  the  familiar  plumy  beds  of  the  little  partridge -pea,  won- 
dering what  sort  of  a  reception  I  would  meet  from  that  quarter, 
but  I  found  these  plants  even  more  fast  asleep  and  transformed 
than  their  drowsy  neighbors,  and  had  trodden  on  a  number  of  the 
plants  ere  I  discerned  them,  for,  like  the  sensitive  mimosa,  which 
they  so  much  resemble,  and  which 

"opened  its  fan-like  leaves  to  the  light, 
And  closed  them  beneath  the  kisses  of  night," 

these  tiny  leaflets  were  now  folded  in  a  long  flat  ribbon  for  each 
leaf,  presenting  thin  edges  to  the  sky,  and  hardly  distinguishable 
from  the  thin  seed-pods  among  them.  Nor  were  these  all.  Folded 
leaves  and  strange  sleeping  forms  were  nodding  about  me  on 
every  hand  as  I  walked  this  dreamy  realm  —  acres  of  "  billowy 
drowse  "  nursed  in  the  cradle  of  a  zephyr.  What  sort  of  a  "  wide- 
awake "  poet  was  that,  I  mused,  who  lamented  from  his  troubled 
pillow : 

"A  flock  of  sheep  that  leisurely  pass  by 
One  after  one ;  the  sound  of  rain,  and  bees 
Murmuring ;  the  fall  of  rivers,  winds,  and  seas ; 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE. 

Smooth  fields,  white  sheets  of  water,  and  pure  sky : 
I've  thought  of  all  by  turns,  and  still  I  lie 
Sleepless." 


There  is  a  belief  as  old  as  tradition  that  Nature  in  her  mercy 
sends  the  bane  and  the  antidote  side  by  side,  and  a  ready  remedy 
for  every  ill.  The  bruised  dock  assuages  the  nettle's  sting.  "  In 
dock,  out  nettle !"  exclaims  the  whimpering  British  lad,  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word.  Thoreau,  when  he  sprained  his  ankle  on 
Mount  Washington,  looked  about  him,  and  for  the  first  time  dis- 
covered the  Arnica  at  his  elbow.  How  fortunate  had  it  been 
with  our  wakeful  poet  had  he  but  realized  his  resources,  for  the 
most  confirmed  victim  of  insomnia  could  hardly  have  repressed 
a  yawn  at  the  sight  of  this  land  of  nod  beneath  his  window. 

The  nature  of  the  nocturnal  movements  and  attitudes  of  plants, 
both  in  leaves  and  flowers,  has  long  been  a  theme  of  speculation 
among  botanists.  In  the  case  of  many  flowers  the  night  atti- 
tudes have  been  conclusively  shown  to  have  relation  solely  to 
their  fertilization,  by  insects. 

The  drooping  attitude  of  leaves  at  night  was  commonly  sup- 
posed to  indicate  an  aversion  to  moisture,  many  plants  assuming 
the  same  position  during  rain  as  in  the  dew,  thus  seeming  to 
verify  the  conjecture ;  but  when  the  same  pranks  were  played  in 
a  cloudy  day  or  a  dewless  night,  the  explanation  had  to  be  aban- 
doned. In  the  clover  tribe  the  nocturnal  positions  already  de- 
scribed seem  to  be  assumed  only  in  the  darkness,  and  this  invari- 
ably, dew  or  no  dew,  while  the  leaves  seem  to  revel  in  the  rain, 
remaining  freely  open. 

I  doubt  not  that  if  our  eyes  were  sharp  enough  they  might 
discern  a  certain  strangeness  in  the  nocturnal  expression  of  every 
plant  and  tree,  such  as  is  remarkably  emphasized  in  the  locust, 
which  is  here  pictured,  and  which,  by -the -way,  is  a  member  of 
that  same  leguminous  order  of  plants  with  the  clovers,  especially 
noted  for  the  pronounced  irritability  of  the  leaves  and  odd  noc- 
turnal capers,  and  whose  seeming  vital  consciousness  has  caused 
some  botanists  to  class  them  at  the  extremity  of  their  system, 
3 


i8 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE, 

in  contact  with  the  limits  of  the  animal 
jy^     kingdom. 

A   midnight  visit   to   one's   garden, 
even  by  the  most  venerable  devotee  of 
his  "  own  ground,"  will  perchance  reveal 
the  fact  that  he  "doesn't  know  beans"  af- 
ter all. 

The  perennial  familiar  blooming  borders  of 
those  "old-fashioned   flowers,"  as   well  as 
the    more    prosaic    domain    of    our    gar- 
dener's immediate  concern,  whose  paths 
lead  to  the  kitchen,  wear  a  strange  look 
•  at  night,  and  seem  peopled  with  foreign 
shapes.      His  "  Limas  "  and   scarlet -run- 
ners now  excite  his  wonder,  if  not  solici- 
tude, with    their    apparent   drooping 
foliage,  all  the  three  leaflets  nodding 
as  if  broken  at  their  juncture  with 
the  stem,  the  two  side  leaflets  in 
many   instances    touching    their 
backs  beneath  the  stem. 
But  he  will  find  them 
firm  and  self-willed  in 
their  attitude. 

His  pea  blossoms 
have  taken  in  sail,  and 
nod   on  their  keels. 
The  leaves   of  his 
young  cabbage-plant, 
usually  more  or  less 
spreading,  now  stand 
quite  erect,  guarding  that 
promising  young  head  with- 
in, for  this  plebeian  cabbage- 
head    knows    a    trick    or   two 
above  its  garden  associates,  and 


A    MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE. 


can  get  a  blessing  from  the  ambrosial  ether  in 
a  bright  glistening  sheen  and  a  border  of  dew- 
drops,  even   on   a   cloudy   night,  when   all   his 
neighbors  are  athirst. 

The  tobacco  -  field   over   the  wall  looks  be- 
witched and  all  on  end,  the  plants  simulating  the 
conical  shape  they  soon  shall  bear  in  the  drying- 
house.     The  flowers  on  the  potato  -plants,  saucer- 
shaped  by  day,  are  now  perchance  nodding  with 
their  open  rim  puckered  in  gathers  around  the 
central   stamens  —  a  common   caprice  of  these 
flowers,  but  dependent  upon  some  whim  which 
I  have  not  yet  solved. 

Turning   to  his  "posies,"  our 
floriculturist  may  pick  an  exotic 
bouquet  from  his   own  familiar 
borders.     His  starry  "  blue-bot- 
tles "  have  raised  their  horns 
and  assumed  the  shape  of  a 
shuttlecock.  His  balsams  wear 
a  hang-  dog  look,  with  every 
leaf  sharply  declined.    Certain 
of  his  coreopsis  blossoms  are 
turned  vertically  by  a   sharp 
bend  at  the  summit  of  the  stem. 
Many  of  his   favorites,  like   the 
Eschscholtzia   blossoms,  have 
closed  their  eyes  or  perhaps  hung 
their  heads,  and  refuse   to  look 
him   in    the   face,  while    his    climbing: 

O 

nasturtiums,  especially  if  they  should  be 
of   the   dwarf  variety  (minus],  await   his 
coming  in  hushed  expectancy,  and  their  wall 
of  sheeny  shields  flashes  a  "  boo  "  at  him  out 
of  the  darkness,  which   immediately   reveals  the 
changed  position  of  their  foliage.    Every  individual 


20  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

shield  is  now  seen  to  stand  perpendicularly,  the  stem  being  bent 
in  a  sharp  curve.  In  the  midst  of  his  surprise  the  flowers  one 
by  one  now  seem  to  steal  into  view,  peering  out  here  and  there 
behind  the  leaves,  and  he  will  discern  a  grimace  there  that  he 
never  noted  before.  That  bright  bouquet  upon  his  mantel  will 
henceforth  wear  a  new  expression  for  him  and  a  fresh  identity. 
He  will  find  himself  exchanging  winks  thitherward  now  and  then, 
and  hover  about  the  room  among  his  friends  in  the  proud  con- 
sciousness of  a  certain  preferment  not  vouchsafed  to  common 
mortals. 

The  effect  of  such  a  bank  of  nasturtium  leaves  as  the  writer 
recently  observed  is  irresistibly  queer.  So  instinct  with  mischiev- 
ous consciousness  did  it  seem  that  he  found  himself  entering  into 
conversation  at  once,  and  laughed  outright  in  the  darkness.  It 
has  been  supposed  that  this  vertical  position  of  the  leaf  was  as- 
sumed to  avoid  the  collection  of  dew,  but  this  is  obviously  an 
error.  There  is  no  disposition  in  the  nasturtium  to  avoid  moist- 
ure, as  would  be  apparent  to  any  one  who  has  watched  the  leaves 
during  rain,  catching  and  coddling  the  great  dancing  drop  at  its 
hollowed  centre,  and  loath  to  let  it  fall. 

Our  midnight  gardener  has  still  further  surprises  in  store  for 
him  among  his  plantations.  Following  the  alluring  fragrance  of 
his  melilot,  he  turns  the  rays  of  his  lantern  among  its  branches, 
and  finds  them  full  of  nocturnal  capers.  The  single  leaflet  of 
the  melilot  is  threefold,  like  a  clover,  to  which  it  is  closely  akin. 
At  night  these  three  leaflets  twist  edge  uppermost  on  their  stems, 
with  the  faces  of  the  outer  pair  turned  inward,  while  the  end 
leaflet  folds  its  face  flat  to  one  side  or  the  other,  to  the  cheek  of 
its  chosen  chum  for  the  night.  And  there  they  are,  a  dozy  com- 
pany in  truth,  yet  not  without  a  subtle  suggestion  that  it  may  all 
be  a  subterfuge  for  the  moment  to  cover  some  mischief  or  other. 

And  here  is  another  interesting  specimen  close  by,  a  member 
of  that  same  somniferous  tribe  — the  blue  lupine— the  "sad  lu- 
pine" of  Virgil  (tristis  lupinus).  Just  why  Virgil  should  have 
attributed  sadness  to  the  lupine  I  believe  has  not  been  satisfac- 
torily decided,  although  many  learned  pens  and  much  print* 


ters 


A    MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE. 


2  I 


ink    have   been    devoted    towards   a 
solution  of  the  problem,  one  authority 
finding  a  last  resource  in  his  exasper- 
ation  in  the  belief  that  the   antique 
poet  "stood  in  need  for  the  metre  of 
his  verse  of  two  long  syllables  which  the 
word  tristis  supplied  him  with." 

The  plant  is  certainly  bright  and  cheery 
enough  by  day,  and  whatever  its  changed 
aspect  by  night,  it  is  certainly  not  one  of 
sadness.     The  blue  flower-spikes  rise  up 
precisely  as  at  mid -day,  but   the  foliage 
presents    a   striking  contrast,  every  wheel- 
shaped   leaf   now   drooping   like    a    closed 

parasol  against  the  stem.  The  various  lupines  are  full  of  indi= 
vidual  whims  in  their  choice  of  sleeping  postures,  some  species 
raising  their  leaflets  in  the  form  of  a  beaker,  and  others  following 


•. 


NASTURTIUMS. 


22 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 


the  bent  of  the  nasturtium  already  described.  Every  corner  of 
our  garden  offers  some  similar  revelation,  and  even  the  plebeian 
weeds  have  caught  the  odd  contagion,  and  "do  as  the  Ro- 
mans do." 

The  formidable  mats  of  pusley  which  our  gardener  had  sin- 
gled out  for  extermination  on  the  morrow  —  with  anticipation, 
perhaps,  of  a  "mess  o'  greens"  —  are  now  supplanted  by  an  un- 
recognizable net-work  of  knotty  stems,  the  artful  leaves  concealed 
flat  against  the  prostrate  red  stalks,  and  with  edges  upward. 

Tall  strange  columns  loom  up,  white  and  ghostly,  beneath  the 
glare  of  your  lantern,  here  and  there  among  the  potato  -  plants. 
They  prove  to  be  pigweeds,  but  for  strangeness  they  might  have 
sprung  up  like  mushrooms  since  your  last  visit,  most  of  the  upper 
leaves,  which  during  the  day  had  extended  wide  on  their  long 
stems,  now  inclining  upward  against  the  stalk,  and  enclosing  the 
tops  of  younger  branches.  Still  other  older  plants  are  seen  with 
leaves  extended  much  as  at  mid-day,  but  nearly  all  turned  edge- 
wise by  a  twist  in  the  stem. 

The  chickweed's  eye  is  closed,  and 

"Closed  is  the  pink-eyed  pimpernel." 

The  creeping -mallow  blossom  now  ignores  its  proud  array  of 
"cheeses,"  coiling  in  a  close  cone,  and  the  oxalis  flower  has  left 
her  shooting  pods  to  keep  the  vigil,  closed  and  nodding  upon  its 
stem,  while  its  foliage  masquerades  in  one  of  the  oddest  disguises 
of  all  this  somnambulistic  company,  the  three  heart-shaped  leaf- 
lets reflexed  and  adjusting  themselves  back  to  back  around  the 
stem  with  many  curious  contortions. 

Whatever  the  disputed  function  of  this  nocturnal  movement, 
t  has  at  least  been  shown  to  be  essential  to  the  life  of  the 
plant,  careful  experiment  having  demonstrated,  according  to  one 
authority,  that  "  if  the  leaves  are  prevented  from  so  regulating 
their  surface,  they  lose  their  color  and  die  in  a  few  days."  Dar- 
win also  conclusively  demonstrated  the  same  fact  with  various 
other  plants. 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE.  2, 

The  sleepiest  beds  in  the  garden,  at  least  as  to  the  flowers, 
will  be  found  among  the  poppies. 

"  Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora, 
Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  thou  ow'dst  yesterday," 

mutters  lago  to  Othello.  The  poppy,  "  lord  of  the  land  of  dreams," 
sets  a  beautiful  example  of  that  somnolence  for  which  it  is  itself 
the  emblem  and  ministering  nepenthe. 

In  a  recent  moonlight  stroll  in  Switzerland  I  visited  the 
poppies  in  their  native  haunts,  the  common  wild  species  whose 
flaming  scarlet  sets  the  foreign  summer  fields  ablaze  in  the  mid- 
day sun.  But  I  found  their  fires  now  smouldering  beneath  the 
dew,  and  giving  no  token  beneath  the  moon,  for  the  blossoms 
were  closed  in  luxurious  slumber. 

"  How  many  thousand  of  my  poorest  subjects 
Are  at  this  hour  asleep !" 

moans  Shakespeare's  king. 

"  O  sleep  !    O  gentle  sleep  ! 
Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee, 
That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  my  eyelids  down, 
And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness  ?" 

What  a  device  of  mockery  had  our  midnight  poppy  proved  to 
this  monarch  with  "  uneasy  head,"  who  wooed  in  vain,  and  even 
traduced,  the  "dull  god  sleep"  that  should  affiliate  with  the 
"  happy  low  "  and  shun  "  the  kingly  couch  "  —  the  "  canopies  of 
costly  state "  in  the  "  perfumed  chambers  of  the  great " !  For 
is  not  the  crowned  head  of  this  poppy  "  pavilioned  richer  than 
the  proudest  king's"?  its  sleep  lulled  in  its  own  drowsy  incense,  in 
luxurious  "perfumed  chambers,"  curtained  in  canopies  of  lustrous 
damask  ? 

In    the    dim    moonlight    I    beheld    thousands    of    these  folded 


flowers    sway- 
ing among  the  familiar  daisies 
and  grasses  of  my  own  land,  and 
otherwise  attended   by  a  host  of 
meadow  flowers  whose   names  I 
had   not  yet  learned.     The   night 
ephemene   fluttered   here   and  there, 
and  a  large   moth,  which   seemed   al- 
most phosphorescent  in  its  whiteness, 
hovered   spirit -like   close   above   the 
poppies,  recalling    to    mind    a  weird 
picture    which    I    had    once    lingered 
over  in  genuine  fascination — "The  Soul 
of  the   Opium -Eater"  -representing   a 
gauze -winged  moth  in  the  moonlight  sipping  "the  drop  serene 
from  the  open  chalice  of  a  poppy— a  bold  Hawthornesque  conceit 


SLEEPING   POPPIES 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE.  25 

worthy  a  more  notable  recognition  than  it  received,  none  the  less 
so  because  it  quarrelled  with  literal  fact,  for  my  spirit  moth  found 
no  open  poppy- cups  at  midnight.  The  poppy  welcomes  all  the 
"  meadow  tribes  "  during  the  day,  but  at  night  her  four  damask 
curtains  are  closely  drawn,  the  two  inner  petals  being  coiled  with- 
in each  other  above  the  tiny  head  that  wears  a  crown  within, 
and  the  outer  pair  enfolding  all  in  their  crumpled  bivalve  clasp. 
And  yet  how  few  have  ever  seen  a  sleeping  poppy ! 

The  wilds  are  full  of  companion  instances  of  sleeping  beauty, 
but  there  are  few  lovelier  than  is  afforded  in  our  own  fringed 
gentian. 

"Thus  doth  thy  sweet  and  quiet  eye 
Look  through  its  fringes  to  the  sky," 

sings  Bryant  in  his  beautiful  tribute  to  this  flower  —  a  sentiment 
which  is  true  of  the  blossom  by  day,  but  this  darling  closes  its 
"fringed  curtains"  at  night  like  other  blue -eyed  folk.  So  do 
many  of  the  asters,  their  drowsy  fringes  coiling  close  in  various 
sleepy  curls  and  cuddles.  We  have  already  noted,  in  our  initial 
vignette,  the  daisy,  "  how  he  will  go  to  rest." 

"Oft  have  I  watched  thy  closing  buds  at  eve, 
Which  for  the  parting  sunbeams  seem  to  grieve," 

says  a  poet  who  followed  the  footsteps  of  Chaucer;  as  did  Words- 
worth also : 

"And  when  at  dusk,  by  dews  opprest, 
Thou  sink'st,  the  image  of  thy  rest 
Hath  often  eased  my  pensive  breast 
Of  careful  sadness.'' 


Shakespeare,  with   his  characteristic    omniscience  and   felicity,  al- 
ludes to  the  similar  habit  of  the  marigold — 


"  that  goes  to  bed  -with  the  sun, 
And  with  him  rises  weeping." 


26 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

And  again  in  the  following  lines  —  what 
an  inspiring  epitome  of  the  dawn ! 

"  Hark !  hark !  the  lark  at  heaven's  gate  sings, 

And  Phoebus  'gins  arise, 
His  steeds  to  water  at  those  springs 

On  chaliced  flowers  that  lies ; 
And  winking  Mary-buds  begin 

To  ope  their  golden  eyes." 

Indeed,  the  daisy  and  the  marigold  are  not 
singular  in  this  retiring  tendency.     It  may 
be  said  that  most  flowers   manifest  a  dis- 
position to  nod   or  close  at  nightfall — the 
wild    rose,  mallow,  pea -blossom,   crane's-bill, 
oxalis,  chickweed,  mullein,  and    certain    butter- 
cups, for  example,  and  the  list  might  be  mul- 
tiplied indefinitely. 

To  all   these   dozy  tribes    is    opposed    a 
striking   contrast   in    our  beautiful   evening 
primrose,  one    of    the    loveliest    of    night- 
blooming  flowers.     In  the  midst  of  all 
this  somnolescence  what,  then,  in  this 
particular  flower,  is  that 

"golden  care 

That  keeps  the  ports  of  slumber  open  wide 
To  many  a  wakeful  night  ?" 

Not  the   quality  of  "care"  in    the 
poet's   thought,  'tis   true,  but   care 
certainly  in  the  sense  of  conscious, 
hopeful  purpose  and  bright  anticipation. 
For  who  that  has   lingered  in  the  twi- 
light and  watched  the   eager  bursting 
buds   of   the    primrose,   seen    the    im- 
pulsive greeting  in  the  open  welcome 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE. 


of  its  chalice,  and  caught  the  enticing  fragrance  of  its  earliest 
breath  —  who  that  has  known  these  can  deny  the  spell  of  its 
sweet  consciousness  ?  It  is  a  rash  hand  that  will  pluck  the  prim- 
rose in  the  twilight.  How  well  Keats  knew  its  impulsive  ways  !  — 


"  A  tuft  of  evening  primroses, 
O'er  which  the  wind  may  hover  till  it  dozes, 
O'er  which  it  well  might  take  a  pleasant  sleep, 
But  that  'tis  ever  startled  by  the  leap 
Of  buds  into  ripe  flowers." 


I  recall  also  the  beautiful  lines  of  Emerson  to  his  recluse  Rho- 
dora,  and  which  are  equally  applicable  to  the  twilight  primrose : 

"  Rhodora !  if  the  sages  ask  thee  why 
This  charm  is  wasted  on  the  marsh  and  sky, 
Tell  them,  dear,  that  if  eyes  were  made  for  seeing, 
Then  beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being." 

But  such  counsel  would  be  wasted  on  both  flowers.  I  am  sure 
the  evening  primrose  would  carry  no  such  message  to  the  sages ; 
for  whatever  of  sweet  vanity  she  may  or  might  possess,  hers  is 
a  deeper  consciousness. 

The  flower  that  blooms  by  night,  moreover,  could  hardly  be 
suspected  of  vanity.  Our  evening  primrose  does  not  bloom  in 
the  dark  hours  for  mere  sentiment  or  moonshine,  but  from  a  mo- 
tive which  lies  much  nearer  her  heart.  "  Often  when  the  nights 
are  very  dark,"  says  an  old  writer,  "  her  petals  emit  a  mild  phos- 
phoric light,  and  look  as  if  illuminated  for  a  holiday.  And  he 
who  does  not  fear  to  be  out  in  her  wild  and  lonely  haunt  may 
see  a  variety  of  nocturnal  ephemerae  hovering  around  the  lighted 
petals,  or  sipping  at  the  flowery  fountains,  while  others  rest  among 
the  branches  or  hurry  up  the  stems  as  if  fearing  to  be  too  late." 

From  the  first  moment  of  her  wooing  welcome  our  evening 
primrose  listens  for  murmuring  wings,  and  awaits  that  supreme 
fulfilment  anticipated  from  her  infant  bud.  For  it  will  almost 


28 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


invariably  be  found  that  those  blossoms  which  open  in  the  twi- 
light have  adapted  themselves  to  the  crepuscular  moths  and  other 
nocturnal  insects.  This  finds  a  striking  illustration  in  the  in- 
stances of  many  long  tubular -shaped  night -blooming  flowers,  like 
the  honeysuckle  and  various  orchids,  whose  nectar  is  beyond  the 
reach  of  any  insect  except  the  night-flying  hawk-moth.  It  is 
true  that  in  other  less  deep  nocturnal  flowers  the  sweets  could 
be  reached  by  butterflies  or  bees  during  the  day  if  the  blossoms 
remained  open,  but  the  night  murmurers  receive  the  first  fresh 
invitation,  which,  if  met,  will  leave  but  a  wilted,  half-hearted  blos- 
som to  greet  the  sipper  of  the  sunshine.  This  beautiful  expec- 
tancy of  the  flower  determines  the  limit  of  its  bloom.  Thus, 
in  the  event  of  rain  or  other  causes  preventive  of  insect  visits, 
the  evening  primrose  will  remain  open  for  the  butterflies  during 
the  following  day,  when  otherwise  it  would  have  drooped  per- 
ceptibly, and  extended  but  a  listless  welcome.  I  have  seen  this 
fact  strikingly  illustrated  in  a  spray  of  mountain -laurel,  whose 
blossoms  lingered  in  expectancy  nearly  a  week  in  my  parlor, 
when  the  flowers  on  the  parent  shrub  in  the  woods  had  fallen 
several  days  before,  their  mission  having  been  fulfilled.  In  the 
house  specimens  the  radiating  stamens  remained  in  their  pockets 
in  the  side  of  the  blossom  cup,  and  seemed  to  brace  the  corolla 
upon  its  receptacle.  These  stamens  are  naturally  dependent  upon 
insect  agency  for  their  release,  and  the  consequent  discharge  of 
pollen,  and  I  noticed  that  when  this  operation  was  artificially  con- 
summated the  flower-cup  soon  dropped  off  or  withered. 

Coleridge  told  only  half  the  truth,  and  that  without  knowing  it 
—and  something  of  a  libel  besides— in  the  lines  of  his  poem  "  No 
Life  Vain  "— 

"The  very  shadow  of  an  insect's  wing, 
For  which  the  violet  cared  not  while  it  staid, 
Yet  felt  the  lighter  for  its  vanishing" — 

for  that  brief  period  perhaps  compassed  the  dream  and  consum- 
mation of  our  violet's  life.  There  is  a  similar  negative  recogni- 
tion of  a  beautiful  harmony  in  nature  in  Shelley's  allusion  to  those 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE.  2g 

"  soft  moths  that  kiss 
The  sweet  lips  of  flowers,  and  harm  not." 

Bryant  often  sang  of  the  bee : 

"In  meadows  red  with  blossoms  all  summer  long  the  bee 
Murmurs,  and  loads  his  yellow  thighs," 

he  says,  but  leaves  us  to  conjecture  the  gladness  of  the  blossom 
as  it  helps  the  little  plunderer  load  his  saddle-bags  in  the  fulfil- 
ment of  a  divine  design  of  which  his  greed  is  but  the  instrument. 

"  Bees  that  soar  for  bloom, 
High  as  the  highest  peak  of  Furness  fells," 

sings  Wordsworth  again  —  a  rather  long  flight  for  an  uninvited 
guest ! — allusions  which  occur  to  my  mood  as  emphasizing  a  miss- 
ing element  in  the  poetry  of  flowers,  at  least  in  their  association 
with  insect  life.  When  the  poet's  butterfly  visits  the  flower,  the 
insect  is  commonly  the  hero,  the  flower  but  a  passive  agent  or 
a  pretty  background  in  the  performance.  The  bee  seeks  the 
blossom;  the  blossom  does  not  consciously  await  the  bee,  but 
always  plays  second  fiddle  to  his  murmuring.  They  have  wed- 
ded the  rose  to  the  nightingale,  but  the  beautiful  plan  of  vital 
interdependence  and  reciprocity  unwittingly  suggested  in  the 
line  of  Hood's — 

"The  broom's  betrothed  to  the  bee" — 


has  been  quite  generally  overlooked  by  a  devoted  class  of  nat- 
ure's devotees,  from  whom  we  had  a  right  to  expect  a  forecast 
of  the  more  philosophical  revelations  of  the  scientist,  for  the  poet 
sees,  where  the  scientist  merely  discovers. 

Browning  has  proven  the  seer  of  the  twilight  flower,  and  in  a 
tender  allegory  has  truly  voiced  its  perfume.  It  is  the  flower 
that  now  sings,  and  though  "  in  a  gondola,"  how  like  the  voice  of 
the  evening  primrose  ! — or  the  woodbine  ! — 


The  moth's  kiss  first! 

Kiss  me  as  it  you  made  believe 

You  were  not  sure  this  eve 

How  my  face,  your  flower,  had  pursed 

Its  petals  up. 


I 


So  here  and  there 
You  brush  it,  till  I  grow  aware 
Who  wants  me,  and  wide  open  burst. 

"The  bee's  kiss  now! 
Kiss  me  as  if  you  entered  gay 


My  heart  at  some  noonday, 
A  bud  that  dared  not  disallow 
The  claim,  so  all  is  rendered  up, 
And  passively  its  shattered  cup 
Over  your  head  to  sleep  I  bow." 


32  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

«  Poetry  comes  nearer  to  vital  truth  than  history,"  says  Plato, 
and  in  similar  vein  of  thought  Hawthorne  avers  that  "creation 
was  not  finished  until  the  poet  came  to  interpret  and  complete  it." 
But  after  all,  were  not  such  disciples  as  Darwin  and  Muller  and 
Sprengel,  the  prophets  of  the  flowers,  more  than  mere  scientists? 

Returning  to  our  primrose  glen,  how  irresistibly  do  we  bring 
to  mind  those  fragrant  lines  of  Moore's,  even  though  they  now 
sing  to  my  twilight  "primrose,"  where  they  sang  of  woodbine 
and  "  jasmine  buds  "  with  him  ! 

"'Twas  midnight— through  the  lattice  wreathed 
With  woodbine  many  a  perfume  breathed 
From  plants  that  wake  when  others  sleep. 
From  timid  jasmine  buds  that  keep 
Their  odor  to  themselves  all  day, 
But  when  the  sunlight  dies  away 
Let  the  delicious  secret  out 
To  every  breeze  that  roams  about." 

Look !  Our  misty  primrose  dell  is  fast  lighting  its  pale  lamps 
in  the  twilight.  One  by  one  they  flash  out  in  the  gloom  as  if 
obedient  to  the  hovering  touch  of  some  Ariel  unseen — or  is  it  the 
bright  response  to  the  fire-fly's  flitting  torch  ?  The  sun  has  long 
sunk  beneath  the  hill.  And  now,  when  the  impenetrable  dusk 
has  deepened  round  about,  involving  all,  where  but  a  moment 
since  all  was  visible,  this  shadowy  dell  has  forgotten  the  sunset, 
and  knows  a  twilight  all  its  own,  independent  of  the  fading  glow 
of  the  sky.  It  was  a  sleepy  nook  by  day,  where  it  is  now  all  life 
and  vigilance ;  it  was  dark  and  still  at  noon,  where  it  is  now 
bright  and  murmurous.  The  "delicious  secret"  is  now  whispered 
abroad,  and  where  in  all  the  mystic  alchemy  of  odors  or  attars 
shall  you  find  such  a  witching  fragrance  as  this  which  is  here 
borne  on  the  diaphanous  tide  of  the  jealous  gliding  mist,  and 
fills  the  air  with  its  sweet  enchantment — the  stilly  night's  own 
spirit  guised  in  perfume?  Yonder  bright  cluster,  deep  within 
the  recess  of  the  alders,  how  it  glows !  fanned  by  numerous 
feathery  wings,  it  glimmers  in  the  dark  like  a  phosphorescent 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE. 


33 


aureole — verily  as  though  some  merry  will-o'-the-wisp,  tired  of  his 
dancing,  had  perched  him  there,  while  other  luminous  spires  rise 
above  the  mist,  or  here  and  there  hover  in  lambent  banks  be- 
yond, or,  like  those  throbbing  fires  beneath  the  ocean  surge, 
illume  the  fog  with  half -smothered  halo.  This  lustrous  tuft  at 
our  elbow !  Let  us  turn  our  lantern  upon  it.  Its  nightly  whorl 
of  lamps  is  already  lit,  save  one  or  two  that  have  escaped  our 
fairy  in  his  rounds,  but  not  for  long,  for  the  green  veil  of  this 
sunset  bud  is  now  rent  from  base  to  tip.  The  confined  folded 
petals  are  pressing  hard  for  their  release.  In  a  moment  more, 
with  an  audible  impulse,  the  green  apex  bursts  asunder,  and  the 
four  freed  sepals  slowly  reflex  against  the  hollow  tube  of  the 
flower,  while  the  lustrous  corolla  shakes  out  its  folds,  saluting  the 
air  with  its  virgin  breath. 

The  slender  stamens  now  explore  the  gloom,  and  hang  their 
festoons  of  webby  pollen  across  their  tips.  None  too  soon,  for 
even  now  a  silvery  moth  circles  about  the  blossom,  and  settles 
among  the  out-stretched  filaments,  sipping  the  nectar  in  tremulous 
content.  But  he  carries  a  precious  token  as  he  hies  away,  a 
golden  necklace,  perhaps,  and  with  it  a  message  to  yonder  blos- 
som among  the  alders,  and  thus  until  the  dawn,  his  rounds  di- 
rected with  a  deep  design  of  which  he  is  an  innocent  instrument, 
but  which  insures  a  perpetual  paradise  of  primroses  for  future 
sippers  like  himself. 

Nor  is  it  necessary  to  visit  the  haunt  of  the  evening  primrose 
to  observe  this  beautiful  episode.  The  same  may  be  witnessed 
almost  any  summer  evening  much  nearer  home,  even  about  your 
porch,  and  among  city  walls,  heralded  by  those  fresh,  dewy  whiffs 
from  the  night-blooming  honeysuckle,  where  the  bright  bevies  of 
blushing  buds  are  bursting  in  anticipation  of  that  "  kiss  which 
harms  not,"  as  the  welcome  sphinx-moth,  piloted  by  the  two  great 
glowing  lanterns  of  its  eyes,  hovers  in  the  murmurous  cloud  of 
its  humming  phantom -wings.  How  often  have  I  watched  these 
mimic  humming-birds  in  the  gathering  dusk,  whirling  about  the 
flowers,  following  the  circuit  of  each  fresh-blown  cluster,  tilting 
and  swaying  in  their  buoyant  poise  above  the  blossom's  throat, 


34  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

only  their  long  bodies  visible  in  the  fuzzy,  buzzy  halos  of  wings, 
the  slender  capillary  tongues  uncoiled,  nearly  six  inches  in  length, 
and  thrust  in  turn  deep  into  the  honeyed  tubes. 

The  honeysuckle  bush  was  a  favorite  twilight  haunt  in  those 
memorable  early  years  of  my  entomological  fervor.  One  single 
evening  I  remember  bringing  to  my  net  over  thirty  specimens, 
great  and  small.  What  a  strange  fascination  they  always  had 
for  me,  with  their  great  bulging  eyes,  their  grotesque  shape,  their 
mysterious  flight,  and  queer  exotic  look  generally  —  as  unlike  the 
creatures  of  the  sunshine  as  though  from  the  Stygian  world. 
Indeed,  my  first  specimen  could  not  have  amazed  me  more  had 
I  bagged  a  chimera  fresh  from  the  moon,  for  these  sphinx-moths 
are  hid  from  the  sharpest  eyes  by  day;  proteges  of  gray  rocks 
and  fences,  or  merged  in  the  fissured  bark  of  trees,  eluding  the 
most  careful  search,  their  frequent  glowing  color  now  smoulder- 
ing beneath  the  ashes  of  their  upper  wings,  from  which  they  rise 
like  a  phoenix  in  the  dusk.  These  moths  are  mostly  dressed  in 
sombre  colors,  but  some  of  them  bear  the  aureate  hues  of  the 
sunset  on  their  wings,  others  are  black  as  night,  or  painted  with 
olives  dark  as  the  midnight  trees,  and  one  there  is  lit  with  the 
rosy  tints  of  dawn,  as  though  thus  to  typify  in  their  motley  the 
sombre  interval  of  their  animated  being.  Who  that  has  wit- 
nessed this  revelation  among  the  honeysuckles  could  be  any 
longer  insensible  to  the  vital  interdependence  between  this  blos- 
som and  the  moth  ? 

Most  of  the  nocturnal  flowers  have  thus  adapted  themselves 
especially  to  these  long-tongued  Lepidoptera,  hiding  their  honey 
in  such  deep  tubes  or  spurs  that  it  is  only  accessible  to  the 
hawk-moths.  To  these,  then,  is  intrusted  the  perpetuity  of  many 
night-flowering  plants. 

In  attributing  a  phosphorescent  quality  to  the  evening  prim- 
rose I  have  mainly  followed  the  license  of  fancy,  although,  if  the 
scientists  are  to  be  believed,  I  have  indeed  scarcely  wandered 
from  the  literal  truth.  For  the  singular  luminous  glow  of  this 
and  other  nocturnal  flowers  has  long  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  curious,  and  positive  qualities  of  inherent  light  have  been 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE. 


35 


accorded  in  many  instances.  It  is  true,  as  one  authority  avers, 
that  "the  evening  primrose  is  perfectly  visible  in  the  darkest 
night,"  from  which  fact  phosphorescent  proper- 
ties have  been  ascribed  to  it.  "  Many  perfectly 
authenticated  instances  are  on  record  of  lumi- 
nous, electrical,  lightning-like  phosphorescence 
playing  about  flowers.  The  daughter  of  Lin- 


naeus  was  the  first 
to  note  it,"  ob- 
serves one  writ- 
er. Pursh  also 
subsequently  ob- 
served and  chroni- 
cled it.  Similar 
flashes  or  corona 
have  been  dis- 
cerned on  nastur- 
tiums, double  mari- 
gold, red  poppy, 
geraniums,  tuberose,  sunflower,  and  evening  primrose,  according 
to  various  authorities.  It  is  a  rash  and  overweening  commentator 
who  would  challenge  this  array  of  competence,  and  so  I  forbear. 
Saint  Elmo's  light  may  have  taken  to  dry  land  and  favored  the 
midnight  watch  of  the  primrose  above  the  fog,  but  I  have  never 
seen  it  with  my  natural  eye. 


36  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

Goethe  also  discerned  a  similar  luminous  aureole  around  the 
poppy,  but  explained  it  as  a  "  spectral  image  in  complementary 
color " ;  an  instance,  it  seems  to  me,  of  where  the  poet's  vision 
was  more  keen  and  philosophic  than  that  of  the  scientist.  This 
spectral  image  can  be  evoked  by  any  one  in  a  simple  philosophic 
experiment.  A  moment's  steady  gaze  at  the  left  side  of  a  blos- 
som cluster,  the  eyes  being  then  instantly  turned  to  the  opposite 
side,  will  reveal  the  colored  aureole  around  this  portion  of  the 
cluster,  and  always  in  the  complementary  hue  —  a  halo  which 
plays  incessantly  around  the  petals  as  the  eyes  are  shifted.  Thus 
the  spectre  of  the  poppy  is  a  ghostly  green -white;  that  of  the 
primrose  is  purple. 

Whether  or  not  the  primrose  is  thus  endowed  may  be  simi- 
larly demonstrated  by  any  one,  and  I  think  it  will  be  found,  as  in 
the  writer's  experience,  that  the  brightest  cluster,  however  luminous 
it  may  appear  in  its  haunt  as  a  condensing  mirror  of  the  midnight 
sky,  will  be  invisible  in  a  perfectly  dark  closet  —  conditions  under 
which  true  phosphorescence  would  glow  with  added  brilliancy. 

I  have  observed  this  same  luminous  deception  prettily  illus- 
trated in  the  instance  of  the  pondweed  (Utricularia),  with  its 
floating  candlestick  dancing  on  the  ripples,  the  faint  light  from 
its  yellow  petals  attended  by  numerous  circling  moths. 

But  we  are  not  without  numerous  examples  of  true  phospho- 
rescence among  our  vegetation,  for  the  "fox-fire"  of  the  midnight 
forest  is  a  true  plant.  How  it  gleams  in  the  dank  nocturnal 
woods!  —  most  brilliant  in  the  deepest  recesses,  as  though  feeding 
its  fire  from  the  very  darkness.  There  is  a  whole  tribe  of  these 
phosphorescent  fungi  —  luminous  moulds,  mushrooms,  and  toad- 
stools. They  shine  through  crevices  in  the  bark  of  trees  or 
among  the  leafy  loam.  They  glare  at  you  with  true  feline  sug- 
gestiveness  from  the  deep  hole  in  decayed  tree  or  shadowy  den 
amid  the  rocks.  Following  the  hint  of  a  peeping  speck  of  fire, 
I  have  torn  the  bark  from  a  decayed  prostrate  trunk  in  the 
woods,  and  liberated  a  flood  of  brilliant  light  covering  several 
square  feet  in  area. 

Hawthorne,  among  his  reminiscent   sketches,  relates  a  similar 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE.  37 

discovery  in  a  midnight  journey  on  a  canal — "a  fallen  tree  that 
was  wholly  converted  into  a  mass  of  diseased  splendor,  which 
threw  a  ghastliness  around."  The  strange  fascination  of  the 
scene  invited  him  thither  and  evolved  a  train  of  moral  philoso- 
phy, in  which  he  became  so  deeply  absorbed  that  he  missed  his 
boat  and  was  obliged  to  "  foot  it "  for  miles  with  "  a  flambeau 
from  the  old  tree  "  to  light  his  path. 

Another  night-walker  describes  a  phosphorescent  log  twenty- 
four  feet  long  "a  mass  of  light."  Fallen  trees,  bleached  and 
entirely  devoid  of  bark,  and  innocent  enough  by  day,  are  thus 
frequently  transfigured  at  night.  Look!  this  brilliant  glowworm 
in  your  path!  —  certainly  so  appearing  —  but  it  proves  to  be  only 
a  mimetic  fragment  of  clean,  bare  twig,  saturated  with  the  bright 
mycelium,  though  it  would  deceive  a  fire-fly. 

That  was  an  observant  poet,  by-the-way,  who  jotted  down  the 
following  episode  in  his  night  stroll : 

"  Among  the  crooked  lanes,  on  every  hedge, 
The  glowworm  lights  her  gem,  and  through  the  dark 
A  moving  radiance  twinkles." 


The  last  line  is  especially  felicitous  and  graphic,  and  brings  vividly 
to  mind  this  animated  spark  down  deep  among  the  dewy  grass. 

"What!"  says  the  oracle  Pliny  to  the  star-gazing  husbandman, 
"standest  thou  staring  still  into  the  sky  and  holclest  up  thy  nose 
aloft  into  the  aire  ?  Why  searchest  thou  the  course  of  starres  ? 
Hast  thou  not  another  brood-hen  star,  other  Vergiliee,  I  say,  even 
before  and  under  thy  very  feet  ?  I  mean  those  pretty  glo-wormes. 
Surely  these  come  duly  at  their  set  daies;  these  keep  time  with 
those  of  heaven,  as  if  they  were  linked  to  that  star  by  some 
neare  affinitie  in  such  sort  as  a  man  may  resolve  &  hold  for 
certaine,  that  engendered  they  be  no  otherwise  but  by  the  influ- 
ence thereof,  the  very  brood  and  chickens  of  the  aforesaid  hen." 
From  all  of  which  it  may  safely  be  inferred,  at  least,  that  these 
insects  are  a  much  more  conspicuous  feature  in  foreign  fields 
than  with  us. 


38  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

What  a  happy  blending  of  natural  and  poetic  truth  have  we 
in  these  lines  of  Coleridge ! 

"  Many  a  glowworm  in  the  shade 
Lights  up  her  love  torch ;" 

for,  like  Hero,  who  lit  her  nightly  torch  to  guide  her  fond  Le- 
ander,  even  so  the  glowworm  gives  this  bright  token  to  her 
ardent  flame  hovering  above  the  grass,  the  glowworm  being  in 
truth  but  the  wingless  mate  of  the  fire-fly. 

But  in  all  our  midnight  stroll  I  have  said  comparatively  little 
of  the  dew,  yet  in  the  whimseys  of  the  dew  alone  there  is  a  suffi- 
cient invitation  to  "let  the  moon  shine  on  thee  in  thy  solitary 
walk."  The  path  of  the  night  rambler  is  paved  and  illuminated 
with  brilliants,  and  to  the  tyro  in  these  fields  seems  especially 
decked  out  for  the  occasion.  A  sheen  of  iridescent  silver  flashes 
through  the  grass  on  right  and  left  at  every  swing  of  the  lantern, 
like  a  flitting  phantom  of  a  rainbow.  The  mazes  of  the  spider 
festoon  the  grass  in  a  drapery  of  diaphanous  silver  lace  pendent 
in  sparkling  spans  from  clover  head  to  grass  tip,  and  enveloping 
the  entire  meadow  beneath  its  glistening  meshes.  An  answer- 
ing pearly  spangle  greets  your  passage  hither  and  yon  from  the 
wheel -shaped  gossamers  everywhere  hung  among  the  herbage,  for 
nature  crowns  this  airy  marvel  with  a  rare  diadem.  These  in- 
numerable "wheels  of  lace,"  such  as  remain  intact,  are  mostly 
invisible  by  day,  except  to  a  quiet  searching  eye,  and  the  greater 
portion  of  their  number  are  renewed  or  freshly  brought  into  be- 
ing during  the  twilight,  and  are  quickly  baptized  with  dew,  every 
thread  and  strand  strung  with  brilliants,  suggesting  a  possible 
clew  to  the  old-time  popular  belief  that  gossamers  were  "com- 
posed of  dew  burned  by  the  sun." 

In  the  caprice  of  the  various  leaves  in  their  attitude  towards 
moisture  there  is  much  of  interest ;  the  fastidiousness  of  this  leaf, 
the  eager  affinity  of  that,  one  appearing  as  dry  as  at  midnoon, 
and  another  laved  and  revelling  in  the  nocturnal  bath.  Here  is 
the  common  plantain  at  our  feet  as  wet  as  though  fresh  from 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE.  39 

immersion,  its  dripping  surface  condensing  the  moisture  in  rivu- 
lets along  its  parallel  veins,  and  conducting  through  the  grooved 
stem  a  long  and  generous  quaff  to  the  parched  earth  at  its  root. 
Other  leaves  are  clothed  in  a  glistening  sheen  resembling  hoar- 
frost; they  flash  a  fugitive  response  to  your  lantern,  and  upon 
the  slightest  touch  let  fall  their  bright  disguise  and  leave  their 
surface  dry.  Another  great  lush  leaf  exhibits  a  strange  contra- 
diction of  caprice,  and  seems  hardly  to  know  its  own  mind,  its 
general  surface  appearing  perfectly  free  from  moisture,  yet  nurs- 
ing its  great  crystal  globe  at  every  depression  upon  its  uneven 
surface.  Its  moveless  poise  seems  almost  instinct  with  avarice. 
Its  cup  is  brimful,  and  each  silvery  restless  bead, 

"  Scarce  touching  where  it  lies," 

grows  apace  until  the  accumulated  weight  disturbs  the  equilib- 
rium, which  is  the  tremorous  signal  for  a  general  release  and  a 
net- work  of  flashing  rills. 

Following  the  sound  of  the  water  in  the  runnel,  a  rare  spec- 
tacle awaits  us  where  the  Equisetum,  the  plebeian  "horse-tail," 
or  scouring- rush,  of  the  daylight,  now  stands  transfigured,  a  mar- 
vel of  nature's  bijoutry,  each  whorl  of  its  curved  fringes  drooping 
with  its  weight  of  gems,  a  mimic  fountain  worthy  the  court  of 
any  Faerie  Queene,  like  that  in  Spenser's  "  bower  of  bliss," 

"  So  pure  and  shiny  that  the  silver  flood 
Through  every  channell  running  one  might  see." 

The  freaks  of  dewy  decoration  seem  endless  in  variety.  The 
feathery  tops  of  blooming  grasses  are  all  a-tangle  with  flashing 
spangles,  while  their  drooping  blades  are  often  free  from  moisture, 
or  perhaps  upraised,  hang  a  border  along  their  edge,  or  pierce  a 
solitary  bead  at  their  tips.  Here  is  a  bristling  bed  of  fox- tail 
grass,  an  army  of  those  "peaceful  spears  of  the  field,"  each  bearing 
aloft  its  glittering  trophy  unto  the  dawn.  Why  this  seeming  con- 
tradiction and  violation  of  natural  law  as  evinced  in  the  case  of 


"IMPATIENS." 

the  dripping  plantain  leaf 
already  mentioned  on  the 
one  hand,  and  in  this  erect  dry 
blade  of  grass  where  the  distilla- 
tion seems  to  aspire  aloft,  often  con- 
verging at  the  extreme  apex,  whence  it  floats  away  for  au^ht  I 
know?  Let  us  descend  beneath  the  hill  to  the  borders  of  h 
pond,  for  here  IS  a  charmed  spot  I  have  reserved  it  for  the  last 


A     MIDNIGHT    RAMBLE.  4! 

the  bright  consummation,  for  it  holds  the  crown-jewel  of  all  this 
brilliant  realm. 

Every  one  knows  the  "  jewel  -  weed,"  the  bright  reveller  of 
the  brook-side  copse,  with  its  golden  "ear-drops"  and  luxuriant 
spray,  murmurous  haunt  of  humming-birds  and  humble-bees,  the 
Impatiens,  or  noli-me-tangere  of  the  French,  the  "touch-me-not"  or 
"snapweed"  of  the  loitering  school-boy,  with  its  touchy,  jumping 
pods,  popping  even  at  a  hard  look  or  breath. 

There  has  been  some  speculation  concerning  the  more  com- 
mon christening  of  this  pretty  plant,  the  "jewel"  not  having  yet 
disclosed  itself,  except  in  the  "  trinket-like  blossom  "  and  "  silvery 
immersed  leaf."  But  these  unworthy  conjectures  may  now  be 
dismissed,  for  the  jewel  is  a  verity,  a  moonstone  of  the  first  water, 
until  now  in  close  keeping  of  the  fairies,  unless,  as  I  half  suspect, 
some  wide-awake  seer  like  myself  long  ago  got  a  glimpse  of  it, 
and  stood  godfather  at  the  happy  christening;  but  if  so  he  re- 
ceives no  credit  in  any  botany  that  I  have  met.  The  night  has 
kept  his  secret. 

Let  us  lay  our  lantern  amid  the  succulent  stems  here  by  the 
brook.  What  a  lavish  display  of  gems!  Every  leaf  among  the 
lush,  translucent  canopy,  though  apparently  as  dry  as  at  high 
noon,  now  drooping  low  in  a  listless  fashion,  and  bordered  with 
its  pendent  array  of  pure  limpid  diamonds,  a  spectacle  such  as 
Aladdin  might  have  awakened  beneath  his  supernal  lamp,  but 
which  finds  few  parallels  in  natural  fields. 

The  analytic  eye  discovers  minute  glands  along  the  edge  of 
the  leaf  at  the  crenate  points,  and  one  or  two  on  the  stem,  each 
of  which  seems  possessed  of  some  secret  power  of  distillation  de- 
nied to  other  plants.  Whole  beds  of  the  Impatiens  will  some- 
times be  seen  scintillating  with  their  gems  when  little  or  no  dew 
is  discernible  elsewhere. 

The  jewels  first  begin  to  show  themselves  at  dusk,  and  at 
midnight  have  reached  their  full  splendor. 

There  are  many  beautiful  surprises  among  these  dewy  shad- 
ows, but  none  comparable  to  this  tearful  dell  where  the  penitent 
Impatiens  tells  her  beads. 

6 


42 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


But  though  the  dial  sleeps,  the  hours  have  flown.  A  long 
jaunt  this  for  daylight  folk.  Already  the  "  keen  insistent  hint  of 
dawn"  hovers  above  the  eastern  hill,  and  yet,  lost  in  the  absorbing 
panorama  beneath  our  lantern,  how  much  of  the  night's  truest 
witchery  have  we  passed  without  a  tribute ! — The  balmy  mist,  the 
songs  of  dreaming  birds,  the  flutter  of  wings  unseen,  the  drone 
of  beetles,  the  sly  footfall  among  the  dried  leaves,  the  glowing 
eyes  among  the  shadowy  herbage,  the  thousand  mysteries  of  scent 
and  sound — one  or  all,  each  enters  into  that  pleasant  sense  of 
new  and  welcome  acquisition  which  now  is  ours.  We  return  to 
our  pillow  conscious  that  in  this  night  we  have  not  only  doubled 
our  own  possessions,  but  have  won  a  supreme  title  to  those  of 
our  neighbor,  against  which  no  litigation  can  prevail.  We  have 
explored  a  new  world — a  realm  which  we  can  look  in  the  face  on 
the  morrow  with  an  exchange  of  recognition  impossible  yesterday. 


In  such  a  night  let  me  abroad  remain 

Till  morning  breaks  and  all's  confused  again" 


I 


HOW  are  the  senses  piqued  and  sharpened  in  the  total  dark- 
ness of  the  woods !     For  though  the  path  of  the  midnight 
rambler,  surprised  beneath  the  lantern's  glare,  reveals  an  unknown 
world   among  the  freaks   of  dewy  vegetation — the   nodding  som- 


46  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

nolence  of  leaf  and  blossom,  the  twinkling  earth -stars  bursting 
into  bloom  beneath  the  brooding  galaxy  for  soft-winged  nestling 
moths  and  poising  murmurers— nevertheless,  with  all  its  strange 
surprises,  for  a  full  appreciation  of  the  night's  true  witchery  one 
must  become  a  sympathetic  element  of  its  mysteries,  and  see 
the  darkness  unalloyed.  With  the  light  extinguished  you  now 
become  a  harmonious  instead  of  a  disturbing  element.  You  are 
taken  into  confidence,  and  experience  a  new  joy  of  sensation  not 
found  in  your  illuminated  path,  that  speculative  charm  which 
Keats  found  in  the  haunt  of  the  nightingale :  , 

"Tender  is  the  night, 

And  haply  the  Queen -moon  is  on  her  throne, 
Clustered  around  by  all  her  starry  fays ; 

But  here  there  is  no  light 

Save  what  from  heaven  is  with  the  breezes  blown 
Through  verdurous  glooms  and  winding  mossy  ways. 
I  cannot  see  what  flowers  are  at  my  feet, 
Nor  what  soft  incense  hangs  upon  the  boughs; 
But  in  embalmed  darkness  guess  each  sweet 
Wherewith  the  seasonable  month  endows 
The  grass,  the  thicket,  and  the  fruit-tree  wild; 
White  hawthorn,  and  the  pastoral  eglantine; 
Fast  fading  violets  covered  up  in  leaves; 

And  mid- May's  oldest  child, 
The  coming  musk -rose,  full  of  dewy  wine, 
The  murmurous  haunt  of  bees  on  summer  eves." 


In  the  total  darkness  the  eager  pupils  are  restless,  and  the 
eyes  roll  in  "  fine  frenzy "  at  the  new  importance  of  their  com- 
panion faculties.  Their  occupation  is  gone.  The  ear  and  the 
nostril  now  take  the  watch,  seeming  possessed  of  a  retina  of 
their  own,  picturing  facts  and  surrounding  events  which  the  jeal- 
ous eye  strives  in  vain  to  prove.  In  the  dark  woods  you  are 
conscious  as  never  before  of  tension  and  muscular  movement  in 
your  ears;  they  loom  up  in  importance,  as  it  were,  and  are 
pricked  forward  and  backward  like  those  of  other  alert  but  hum- 
bler beings.  Unaided  by  the  sight,  they  carry  on  a  subtle  analysis 


NIGH  T     WI TCHER  Y. 


47 


of  sound  which  seems  independent  of  your  reason — a  slight  aug- 
mented rustle  among  the  wind-stirred  leaves !  the  creaking  of 
a  limb !  the  soft  burst  of  applause  among  the  aspen  leaves !  a 
capricious  patter  of  falling  dew  from  the  tree -tops,  a  snap  of  twig 
not  precisely  timed  to  your  footfall,  or  a  few  inches  too  far  re- 
moved therefrom;  a  falling  object  from  the  tree  —  an  acorn,  per- 
haps, were  it  not  that  for  an  inanimate  thing  it  has  rolled  a  foot 
too  far  upon  the  leaves  !  What  events ! 

And  so  with  your  nose:  you  see  with  it.  Now,  if  never  be- 
fore, it  warrants  its  conspicuous  position  in  your  physiognomy, 
and  becomes  a  member  of  utility  as  well  as  a  luxurious  ornament. 
In  these  midnight  woods  you  follow  your  nose  like  a  hound.  It 
pilots  the  senses.  Could  this  eclipsed  eye  ever  have  pictured 
more  vividly  the  pungent  copse  of  spice -wood  through  which  you 
have  just  pressed,  or  that  drooping  branch  of  aromatic  hickory 
which  touched  your  shoulder,  or  that  plume  of  tansy  that  now 
brushes  against  your  elbow?  Does  our  midnight  poet  affirm, 

"I  cannot  see  what  flowers  are  at  my  feet?" 

And  why  not,  pray?  This  mint  at  your  foot  —  is  it  spearmint  or 
peppermint,  or  horsemint,  or  pennyroyal  ?  Your  nose  will  tell 
you  at  a  glance.  The  texture  of  the  vaporous  vault  of  the  still 
midnight  woods  seems  to  the  hungry,  desperate  eye  marbled  or 
party-colored  with  floating  incense  of  odprs. 

"Where  hast  thou  wandered,  gentle  gale,  to  find 
The  perfumes  thou  dost  bring? 

***** 
O'er  the  pale  blossoms  of  the  sassafras 

And  o'er  the  spice-bush  spray, 
Among  the  opening  buds  thy  breathings  pass, 
And  come  embalmed  away." 

You  may  sit  in  the  ambrosial  current  upon  some  jutting  rock  or 
log,  and  take  your  fragrant  quaffs  as  they  glide  by,  each  in  its 
season  —  a  whiff  of  arbutus,  perhaps?  how  pink  it  smells!  or  an 


48 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 


odorous  yellow  hint  of  primrose  soft  and   luscious — in  the  dark 
it  seems  to  the  nostril  what  melting  marsh -mallow  confection  is 

to  the  tongue — or  a  spicy  glimpse  of 
colt'sfoot  or  wild-ginger.     And  so  the 


redolent  procession  passes,  now  a  visible  aroma  of  sweet-fern, 
followed  by  a  perfumed  vision  of  sweet  -  pyrolas,  ground-nut,  or 
smilacena,  or  a  cool,  phosphorescent  scent  of  toadstool  or  soggy 


NIGHT     WITCHERY. 


49 


wood,  or  the  brown  smell  of  mouldy  loam.  A  misty  messenger 
from  the  swamp  without  the  woods  now  finds  its  way  thither, 
borne  on  the  pink  breath  of  sweet  azalea  or  visioned  in  the 
fragrant  hint  of  clethra.  And  now  it  is  the  sweet-fern  again. 
Yes,  sweet-fern  tinctured  with  a  faint  gamy  scent  that  plays  Tan- 
talus to  our  taunted  vision  as  we  search  the  gloom  for  two  beads 
of  animated  fox-fire,  for  Reynard  has  recently  passed  this  way, 
or  is  even  now  threading  through  the  fragrant  underwood.  And 
what  is  this — for  let  us  be  true  to  the  integrity  of  these  nocturnal 
zephyrs — this  faint  piquant  suspicion  which  now  sophisticates  the 
wild  bouquet,  this  pronounced  acrimony — how  the  impetuous  eyes 
now  begin  to  roll!  —  this  overwhelming,  painful  effluvium  which 
now  sweeps  the  wilds  in  annihilating  conquest  ?  How  graphic ! 
more  real  than  life  —  caustic,  saturating,  mordant!  Mephitis,  I 
could  trace  thy  shaggy  portrait  to  a  hair  from  that  pictorial  smell ! 

It  is  part  of  the  poet's  creed  that  all  the  sights  and  sounds  of 
nature  are,  or  ought  to  be,  beautiful  in  their  environment.  Even 
the  perfume  of  many  a  favorite  blossom  of  the  woods  becomes 
unpleasantly  oppressive  in  -  doors.  "  The  saunterer's  apple  not 
even  the  saunterer  can  eat  in  the  house."  The  distant  midnight 
baying  of  a  hound  is  to  many  a  night  rambler  a  pleasant  sound, 
though  few  perhaps  have  yet  learned  to  "  bathe  their  being " 
therein  as  Thoreau  did — a  feat  which  would  seem  more  logical 
in  relation  to  the  skunk's  accompaniment,  many  a  midnight  trav- 
eller having  waded  through  the  acrid,  saturated  mist  in  its  evil 
premonition  or  trail. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  when  only  faintly  perceived,  the  odor 
of  Hosea  Bigelow's  "  essence  peddler "  is  not  unpleasant.  Nay, 
nay,  my  dainty  damosel !  turn  not  aside  thy  fastidious  nostril,  nor 
raise  the  spurning  palm.  How  many  times  on  a  blustering  win- 
ter's day  hast  thou  nursed  the  rosy  tip  of  that  same  delicate  nose 
in  the  warm  "Alaska  sable"  muff  and  found  a  pleasant  pungency 
therein!  Thus,  in  highly  diluted  doses,  the  odor  of  the  "Alaska 
sable  "  is  a  not  unpleasant  occasional  ingredient  in  the  nocturnal 
nosegay.  It  is  a  sort  of  spice  which  brings  alert  variety  in  our 
midnight  stroll. 


50  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

The  odor  of  the  fox  is  readily  detected  by  a  keen  nostril,  es- 
pecially at  night.  The  noisomeness  of  the  warren  is  distinctly 
perceptible  where  unperceived  by  day,  and  the  taint  is  carried 
abroad  in  the  ambling  fur,  the  contaminated  wake  held  in  equi- 
librium, as  it  were,  in  the  heavy  mist.  Even  the  tiny  emerald 
lace -wing  fly  or  the  caddis -moth  will  sometimes  thus  leave 
its  malodorous  trail  threading  the  maze  of  redolence  in  the 
mist;  and  the  bronzy  scented  beetle  will  challenge  your  nostril 
as  you  loiter  in  the  dark  woods,  perhaps  within  the  course  of 
its  recent  droning  flight  or  in  the  neighborhood  of  its  haunt 
upon  oozy  tree -trunk  near  by.  Often  have  I  trailed  him  like 
a  hound,  and  captured  him  in  his  concealment  in  the  fissured 
bark. 

The  bibulous  convivialist  welcomes  a  certain  ambrosial  nectar 
which  mortals  call  a  pousse  cafe,  but  which  is  said  to  be  of  the 
gods,  wherein  the  several  tempting  ingredients  are  so  deftly  de- 
canted as  to  lie  unblended  in  their  fragrant  equipoise  for  a  full 
minute ;  how  much  longer,  it  has  possibly  never  been  permitted 
to  reveal.  Something  of  the  same  phenomenon  is  naturally  dem- 
onstrated in  the  scented  distillations  of  the  dew.  In  the  shel- 
tered lowlands,  when  the  night  is  still,  the  motley  ingredients  of 
this  odorous  tangle  seem  to  find  their  equilibrium,  and  lie  in 
strata,  as  it  were.  How  the  redolence  of  the  witch-hazel  revels 
in  the  mist,  weaving  itself  into  the  pale  fabric  as  it  floats  above 
the  marsh !  It  is  the  most  volatile  incense  which  we  shall  meet 
in  the  moonlight  glens,  and  seems  to  float  like  oil  upon  the 
denser  air,  laden  with  the  heavy  emanations  of  the  swamp.  You 
may  walk  with  your  nostrils  tingling  in  its  tide,  and  leave  it  high 
and  dry  as  you  sit  to  rest.  I  have  noted  the  same  fact  with 
regard  to  the  evening  primrose,  but  fancy  the  perfume  is  less 
volatile  than  the  Hamamaelis,  and  occupies  a  lower  plane.  Here 
are  veritable  zones  of  varying  humidity  and  temperature,  each 
with  its  haunting  fragrance,  often  capricious,  and  yet  again  quite 
constant  in  its  recurrence.  In  a  certain  well-known  glen,  for 
instance,  you  will  always  pass  through  a  fugitive  stratum  of  mead- 
ow-rue or  linden,  or  other  faithful  perfume  for  each  season;  in. 


52  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

another  swampy  fallow  you  may  confidently  expect  the  welcome 
of  the  elders  or  wild  grape. 

I  remember  a  certain  nook  which  in  still  August  nights  is 
redolent  of  clethra,  that  constant  blossom  of  the  swamp,  though 
no  shrubs  are  there  to  be  seen  by  day:  a  tribute  from  the 
marshy  pond  far  up  the  mist-hung  brook,  where  the  reedy  bor- 
ders are  fringed  with  the  densely  blooming  shrub,  where  the  al- 
mond-scented fog  floods  the  sedgy  waters,  and  the  herons  wade 
among  the  grasses,  half-veiled  in  the  tinctured  tide.  Here,  too, 
the  floating  pond -weed  claims  its  lowly  plain  below  the  mist, 
anointing  the  lily-pads  in  its  aromatic  perfume  as  its  yellow  blos- 
som-clusters dance  upon  the  ripples. 

In  another  narrow  glen  the  heavy  distillation  from  the  sloping 
chestnut  woods  always  seems  to  pour,  with  annihilation  of  all 
subtle  midnight  odors.  On  the  pasture  slope  above  the  wood 
the  cool,  stimulating  exhalations  of  the  mint  follow  your  path,  and 
linger  till  morn  in  the  foggy  hollows,  while  high  up  on  the  hill 
one  seems  suddenly  to  leave  the  dews  and  greet  a  whiff  which 
brings  a  vision  of  the  day— -that  "stratum  of  warm  air"  which 
quickened  the  happy  muse  of  Thoreau  in  his  "Moonlight  Walk" 
— "a  blast  which  has  come  up  from  the  sultry  plains  of  noon. 
It  tells  of  the  day,  of  sunny  noontide  hours  and  banks,  of  the 
laborer  wiping  his  brow,  and  the  bee  humming  amid  flowers. 
It  is  an  air  in  which  work  has  been  done  —  which  men  have 
breathed.  It  circulates  about  from  wood-side  to  hill-side  like  a 
dog  that  has  lost  its  master,  now  that  the  sun  is  gone." 

Though 

"the  restless  day, 
Expiring,  lays  the  warbling  world  asleep," 

the  night,  too,  hath  its  wary  broods,  that  with  illuminated  eyes, 
like  glowing  head- lights,  turn  darkness  into  day,  and  know  the 
teeming  bird-chorus  of  the  dawn  only  as  a  lullaby.  Of  such  is 
the  mystic  whippoorwill.  How  few  have  seen  the  daylight  ten- 
ement of  this  ominous  wandering  voice !  And  there's  the  mous- 
ing owl,  on  muffled  wing,  with  fiery,  flitting,  curious  eyes  and 


NIGHT     WITCHERY.  53 

foreboding,  tremulous  wail ;  for  it  would  seem  that  the  bird  of 
wisdom  has  not  yet  lived  down  the  evil  aspersion  of  its  antique 
slanderers.  "  The  scritch  owl,"  says  Pliny,  "  alwaies  betokeneth 
some  heavie  newes,  and  is  most  execrable  and  accursed.  In 
summe  he  is  the  very  monster  of  the  night,  neither  crying  nor 
singing  out  cleare,  but  uttering  a  certaine  heavie  groane  of  dole- 
ful mourning,  and  therefore  if  it  be  scene  to  fly  abroad  in  any 
place  it  prognosticateth  some  fearful  misfortune ;"  a  belief  which 
still  prevails  quite  commonly  among  credulous  country-folk,  to 
whom  this  nightly  visitant  in  the  orchard  or  maples  is  the  signal 
for  the  direst  foreboding.  Poor  maligned, 
feathered  grimalkin !  What  does  he  say 
to  me  here  in  the  moonlight  gloom  of  the 
woods,  as  he  sits  there  in  the  shadow 
on  the  pine  branch,  his  glowing 
eyes  revealing  all  the  mys- 
teries of  the  darkness 
in  their  illuminated 
searching  shafts,  and 

*^s 

now  with  alert  poise 
and  ears  uppricked,  his 
eyes  quenched  as  he  turns 
his  head  away  towards  the 
opening  of  the  wood,  filling 
the  leafy  vault  with  the  soft,  tremulous  cry  ?  And  what  is  this 
to  the  rightly  informed  ear  but  the  message,  not  of  "  doleful 
mourning  "  and  "  heavie  newes,"  but  the  same  that  is  borne  in  the 
song  of  the  thrush,  the  tidings  rather  of  life  and  love,  a  wooing 
to  the  listening  mate,  whose  echo  answers  with  near  and  nearer 
response  across  the  valley  mist?  How  infinitely  more  musical 
and  welcome,  this  witching  nocturne  of  the  owl,  than  the  dismal 
midnight  duo  of  his  quadrupedal  counterpart  of  the  backyard 
fence,  that  yet  brings  no  compensating  terrors  of  superstition ! 

As  in  the  owl  we  have  our  nocturnal  puss  of  featherdom,  so 
also  in  the  dusky  bat  have  we  our  winged  mouse.  We  hear 
their  nightly  squeaking  convocation  in  the  loosened  clapboards 


54  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

of  the  shed  or  barn  as  we  pass  —  or  perhaps  feel  an  occasional 
fanning  of  their  pellicle  wings  even  when  the  eye  detects  no  sign 
of  them  in  the  gloom  —  this  accepted  type  of  blindness  that 
chooses  the  dark  hours  for  flight,  that  dodges  with  artful  purpose 
against  the  stars,  or  in  the  blackest  night  fills  its  little  red  maw 
with  the  most  agile  insects  caught  on  the  wing !  and  this,  too, 
under  disadvantages  that  would  seem  rather  discouraging,  for  if 
an  ancient  philosopher  is  to  be  believed,  a  most  astounding  feat 
of  aerial  acrobatics  is  here  in  progress  under  cover  of  the  dark- 
ness. "  She  is  the  only  bird  that  suckleth  her  little  ones,"  says 
my  authority,  "and  these  she  will  carry  about  her  two  at  once, 
embracing  them  as  she  flieth,"  the  difficulties  of  which  will  be 
appreciated  when  we  consider  that  the  bat  in  reality  "  flieth  "  with 
her  arms. 

What  deeds  are  doing  beneath  the  winking  stars !  with  the 
owls  and  wild-cats  and  martens  mousing  among  the  slumbering 
trees;  the  foxes,  skunks,  and  weasels  following  their  dark  trails 
among  the  herbage,  to  the  terror  of  the  hares  and  the  meadow- 
mice  and  low-cradled  birds.  Most  of  the  feathered  tribes  have 
their  heads  beneath  their  wings,  though  a  few,  more  wakeful  than 
the  rest,  will  sometimes  anticipate  the  day  in  nocturnal  minstrelsy. 
I  have  twice  heard  the  veery- thrush  uttering  its  weird  call  at 
midnight,  and  have  been  startled  by  the  challenge  of  the  oven- 
bird,  from  its  mossy  hut  beneath  the  ledge  —  "TEACHER,  TEACHER, 
TEACHER,  TEACHER,  TEACHER" — awakening  the  dreaming  woods  in 
its  reverberating  echoes.  The  chipping-sparrow  occasionally  sings 
at  night,  and  the  white-throated  sparrow  often  dreams  aloud.  I 
have  occasionally  heard,  also,  the  chewink  and  cat-bird,  while  the 
nighthawk,  though  neither  a  hawk  nor,  in  spite  of  its  name,  as 
much  a  creature  of  the  night  as  of  the  dawning  and  waning  day, 
will  sometimes  amble  from  its  prostrate  perch  upon  the  wall  and 
take  a  turn  aloft,  making  the  welkin  echo  to  its  wild  screech,  and 
frightening  the  tree-tops  with  its  swooping  twang.  I  have  often 
heard  the  drum  of  the  partridge  well  into  the  small  hours,  and 
that  feathered  rogue,  the  yellow-breasted  chat,  once  almost  threw 
me  prostrate  in  my  dewy  tracks  in  the  woods  as  he  screamed  in 


NIGHT     WITCHERY.  55 

my  shrinking  ear,  "  Chick  whew !  get  away !"  like  a  very  goblin ; 
for  there  seemed  no  possible  perch  upon  which  the  bird  could 
have  rested,  and  I  failed  to  discern  a  flutter  of  feather. 

With  the  exception  of  the  katydids  and  the  throbbing  lyres 
of  vesper  tree-crickets  or  an  occasional  tree -toad,  the  woods, 
however,  are  usually  comparatively  silent  at  night.  It  is  in  the 
wet  lowlands  where  we  find  the  chief  nocturnal  activity.  The 
midnight  summer  swamp  or  marshy -bordered  pond  is  literally 
palpitating  with  a  life  unknown  to  sunlight ;  the  rippling  moon 
dancing  a  filigree  attendance  among  the  reeds,  and  speeding  in 
wavy  chase  across  the  deeps  peopled  now  with  pouts  and  eels 
which  the  daylight  angler  would  have  sought  in  vain.  The  liz- 
ards' tails  (Saururus)  shake  their  drooping  plumes  with  a  tremor 
all  inconsistent  with  the  listless  breeze.  The  pickerel -weeds  stir 
with  submerged  life,  and  the  quivering  tips  of  the  reeds  betray 
the  rude  progress  of  the  turtles  towards  the  shore  as  they  seek 
the  sandy  banks  to  pile  their  nests  of  eggs.  The  placid  sleep  of 
the  pond  is  vexed  with  multitudinous  tickle,  marked  by  the  span- 
gling touches  of  the  moonlight  insect  broods ;  of  fluttering  caddis- 
flies  now  making  their  first  essay  with  their  new-found  satin 
wings,  emerging  by  the  legion  from  their  water- baskets  or  crystal 
mosaic  tubes  everywhere  among  the  bordering  shallows,  while  myr- 
iad ephemerae  spread  their  pallid  wings  and  dance  their  midnight 
revels,  making  merry  through  their  short  sunless  day  of  life  which 
perchance  ends  with  the  dawn.  The  musk-rat  or  the  mink  leads 
a  long,  silent,  glittering  trail  across  the  glassy  water,  or  with  a 
splash  at  the  brink  sets  the  lily- pads  and  spatter-docks  in  gliding 
dance  on  the  ripples,  and  starts  upon  their  telltale  chase  across 
the  pond  a  hundred  gleaming  circles  at  whose  common  centre, 
though  hid  in  verdurous  gloom  at  the  bank,  a  random  rifle-ball 
would  surely  win  its  sleek  and  dripping  quarry,  now  crouched  in 
muddy  tracks  with  luckless  prey  of  frog  or  tadpole. 

What  with  the  tremulous  drool  of  the  toads  and  the  sprightly 
pipes  of  the  hyla  tree -toads  here  celebrating  their  nuptials  in 
their  native  element,  or,  later,  the  trump  and  splash  of  the  bull- 
frog, together  with  the  rasping  accompaniment  of  the  cone-head 


,j6  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

grasshopper   imps    among   the   sedges,  the   midnight   swamp  will 
sing  in  our  ears  till  morning. 
Then  there  is 

"  the  loon's  weird  laughter  far  away " 

that  comes  up  to  us  as  we  ascend  the  hill,  the  midge -cloud's 
tingling  hum  which  we  left  behind  us  as  we  entered  the  wood, 
where 

"  in  a  wailful  choir  the  small  gnats  mourn," 

and  the  "blind"  bat  hovers  yet,  or  the  quawking  chorus  of  the 
night-herons  far  down  the  misty  river- bend,  or  the  pumping  of 
the  bittern  in  the  fen  beyond,  or  it  may  be  far  beneath  the  valley 
fog — for  many  have  heard  the  "stake-driver"  but  few  shall  locate 
the  stake!  Only  once  have  I  identified  this  strange  nocturnal 
voice  to  be  positively  sure  of  it,  and  this,  as  it  occasionally  came 
across  the  placid  midnight  waters  of  Lake  Winipiseogee,  alter- 
nating or  accompanied  with  the  "loon's  wild  whinny"  from  the 
distant  shore,  the  while  I  floated  alone  in  my  boat  as  though 
poised  in  equilibrium  between  two  limitless  starlit  skies,  one  above 
and  one  below,  without  a  visible  vestige  of  land  save  the  great 
black  rim  of  the  distant  shore  to  give  prosaic  source  to  the  weird 
nocturnal  duo. 

I  have  said  that  the  midnight  forest  is  comparatively  silent ; 
but  the  stillest  woods  may  be  made  to  divulge  strange  secrets 
not  vouchsafed  to  the  ordinary  night  listener.  In  a  recent  ro- 
mance by  Mr.  W.  H.  H.  Murray,  in  which  he  touches  incident- 
ally upon  woodcraft  and  the  acute  ear-sense  of  the  Indian,  I 
find  the  following  note : 

I  have  often  been  surprised  at  the  many  and  strange  sounds  which  may  at 
times  be  heard  by  putting  my  ear  flat  to  the  sod  or  to  the  bark  of  trees.  Even 
the  sides  of  rocks  are  not  dumb,  but  often  resonant  with  noises  of  running  waters, 
probably  deep  within.  It  would  seem  that  every  formation  of  matter  had  in  some 
degree  the  characteristics  of  a  whispering  gallery,  and  that,  were  our  ears  only 
acute  enough,  we  might  hear  all  the  sounds  moving  in  the  world. 


NIGH  T     WI TCHER  V. 


57 


Who  has  listened  to  the  aeolian  -  harp  of  the  telegraph  ? 
What  wondrous  harmony  is  here  wooed  from  the  passing  breeze, 
or  almost  from  the  calm  air  itself — or  from  some  remote  tem- 
pest, perhaps  —  and  reverberated  in  cathedral  tones  to  the  ear 
laid  close  against  the  resonant,  weather-seasoned  pole !  Did  the 
reader  ever  listen  close  against  the  dead  pine-tree  and  marvel 
at  the  sounds  of  teeming  life  thus  disclosed  within  —  life  which 
knows  no  night  nor  day  nor  rest?  Think  you  that  the  wood- 
pecker in  its  snug  cave  aloft,  or  the  squirrel  in  the  hollow  rail, 
has  heard  your  stealthy  footfall  through  its  door- way?  No;  the 
tidings  have  come  through  turf  and  root  and  trunk,  vibrated  into 
their  being.  If  you  would  know  the  haunting  tenants  of  the  si- 
lent beech  by  your  side  in  the  dark  woods,  lay  your  ear  closely 
against  its  bark,  when,  if  the  trunk  be  roughly  struck,  the  slight- 
est movement  within  its  heart  is  betrayed  in  the  vibrant  wood 
and  conducted  to  your  ear.  More  than  once  in  my  strolls  have 
I  thus  listened  beneath  the  flicker's  hole,  and  heard  the  clinging 
claws  apparently  beneath  the  bark  at  my  ear  as  the  sharp  head 
peered  out  from  the  little  round  door- way  aloft. 


"//  is  as  when  a  family,  your  neighbors,  return  to  an  empty  house 
after  a  Jong  absence,  and  you  hear  the  cheerful  hum  of  voices  and  the 
laughter  of  children,  and  see  the  smoke  from  the  kitchen  fire.  The  doors 
are  thrown  open,  the  children  go  screaming  through  the  halL  So  the 
flicker  dashes  through  the  aisles  of  the  grove,  throws  up  a  window  here 
and  cackles  out  of  it,  and  then  there,  airing  the  house.  It  is  as  good 
as  a  house-warming  to  all  Nature." 

THOREAU. 


'  Hard  is  the  heart  that  loveth  nought 
In  May,  when  all  this  mirth  is  wrought, 
When  he  may  on  these  braunches  here 
The  small  birdes  singen  clere 
Thir  blissful  swete  song  piteous." 

CHAUCER. 


\ 


Heaven  tries  the  earth  if  it  be  in  tune, 
And  over  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays," 


N  those  perfect  days  of  early 


rateful  and  multitudinous  response 
is    hers   in   the   choral   of  the    birds  !      Begun 
long  before   the  dawn,  to   cease  only  with  the 
starlight,  nor  hardly  then,  for  the  vesper-spar- 
row, the    whippoorwill,  the    chat,  and    the   owl 
still  hold  the  diminuendo  for  the  awakening 
auroral  choir. 

If  it  is  true  —  and  the  poet  but  vitalizes 
a  natural  law  as  pertinent  to  sound-waves 
as  to  rippling  water  —  that 

Thou  canst  not  wave  thy  staff  in  air, 
Or  dip  thy  paddle  in  the  lake, 

But  it  carves  the  bow  of  beauty  there, 

And  the  ripples  in  rhymes  the  oar  forsake," 


then  what  a  bewildering  maze  is  this  pal- 
pitating vault,  where  the  very  haze  seems  all 
a  tremor  to  the  trilling  throats  ! 


62  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

The  April  breeze  brings  hope  and  aspiration  on  its  wings,  of 
which  this  bright  June  morning  is  the  supreme  fulfilment.  And 
yet  in  the  rapt  enjoyment  of  this  perfect  day,  when  former  darker 
days  seem  past  belief,  and  the  future  knows  no  dread,  how  little 
are  we  wont  to  recognize  the  claims  of  the  birds  for  the  rare 
enchantment  which  is  ours !  An  isolated  note  here  and  there — 
the  song  of  an  oriole  in  the  elm,  or  perhaps  the  sputtering  chal- 
lenge of  the  wren  in  the  cornice  cranny  above — accentuates  the 
wondrous  symphony,  and  as  a  distinct  feature  wins  our  passing 
appreciation.  But  what  of  the  welling  under-harmony  which  fills 
the  earth  and  sky,  and  buoys  us  thither  unaware  ?  For  though 
laden  with  fragrance  of  sweetest  flowers,  and  borne  from  a  para- 
dise of  blossoming  fields,  that  were  a  false  and  barren  breeze  of 
June  which  bore  no  message  from  the  birds.  What  are  the  ti- 
dings which  they  help  to  bring? 


"  We  may  shut  our  eyes,  but  we  cannot  help  knowing 
That  skies  are  clear  and  grass  is  growing. 
The  breeze  comes  whispering  in  our  ear 
That  dandelions  are  blossoming  near, 
That  maize  has  sprouted,  that  streams  are  flowing, 
That  the  river  is  bluer  than  the  sky, 
That  the  robin  is  plastering  his  house  hard  by: 
And  if  the  breeze  kept  the  good  news  back! 
We  could  guess  it  by  yon  heifer's  lowing — 
And  hark!  how  clear  bold  chanticleer, 
Warmed  with  the  new  wine  of  the  year, 
Tells  all  in  his  lusty  crowing!" 

Thus,  like  the  "clarion"  of  the  cock,  one  by  one  some  famil- 
iar note  accentuates  the  musical  murmur,  and  we  are  willing  to 
accept  the  passing  whim  that  the  robin  or  the  oriole,  the  song- 
sparrow  or  the  bluebird,  "tells  it  all"  and  "makes  the  summer." 

For  several  years  every  succeeding  June  has  found  me  in  the 
fulfilment  of  this  ideal  dolce  far  niente  which  our  poet  describes, 
reclining  in  my  hammock  beneath  my  cottage  porch,  my  fancy 
floating  hither  and  yon  at  the  beck  and  call  of  warble  and  per- 


BIRD    NOTES.  63 

fume.  And  yet,  as  in  the  buzzing  insect  din  of  the  August  fields, 
how  few  of  us  ever  seek  to  analyze  the  units  of  the  complex 
unison !  Here  is  this  great  bird-symphony  which  fills  the  June 
morning  of  a  continent  with  unceasing  harmony,  while  only  the 
notes  of  a  few  prominent  performers  are  relieved  against  the  vast 
perspective  of  sound.  Our  own  immediate  choir  extends  even 
to  the  horizon's  brim,  many  of  these  perfectly  audible  ripples  of 
sound  doubtless  finding  their  vocal  centre  on  the  hill  a  half  a 
mile  or  more  away:  all  intermingled  and  entangled,  and  though 
never  arrested  or  swerved  in  their  course,  only  an  occasional  note 
more  penetrating  than  the  rest  reaching  our  imperfect  ears  un- 
broken ;  while  from  the  nearer  woods  below,  the  neighboring  or- 
chard, the  meadow,  and  the  sky,  each  contributes  its  faithful  voice 
to  the  ever-precious  medley. 

Few  people  would  seem  to  master  the  art  of  seeing  with  their 
ears — perceiving,  locating  the  precise  source  of  sound  —  for  the 
analytical  resources  of  the  second  sense  are  not  fully  appreciated. 
The  eye  may  view  the  panorama  as  a  unit,  and  yet  revel  in  its 
elements  at  will.  Even  so  the  ear,  while  sensitive  to  the  unison, 
may  resolve  the  same  to  its  units  of  sound.  Indeed,  a  trained 
musical  ear  detects,  almost  without  effort,  the  various  parts  in  a 
harmony,  while  an  immortal  Beethoven,  even  though  humanly 
deaf,  traces  from  the  music  of  his  exalted  interior  vision  the  ele- 
ments of  a  vast  overwhelming  unison,  apportioning  to  each  crude 
instrumentalist  the  orchestral  score  by  which  less  favored  hu- 
manity may  hear  the  echo  of  that  divine  inspiration.  In  a  more 
modest  degree,  this  analytical  power  may  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  oratorio  of  the  birds. 

On  these  June  mornings  I  have  repeatedly  asked  my  more  or 
less  ornithological  friend  to  name  such  individual  songs  as  he 
can  detect,  the  result  being  generally  a  list  of  from  seven  to  ten 
of  the  more  prominent  vocalists,  prominent  generally  because  of 
their  proximity.  "  Do  you  know  the  song  of  the  purple  finch  ?"  I 
ask.  "Yes,  perfectly,"  is  the  reply.  "Can  you  not  hear  it  now 
almost  continually  ?"  But  careful  listening  fails  to  detect  the 
song.  Focus  your  ear  on  the  summit  of  yonder  spruce  by  the 


64  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

road,  and  be  deaf  to  your  robin  and  wren.  The  song  reveals  it- 
self instantly,  and  is  readily  caught  thereafter. 

Sitting  thus  with  closed  eyes  and  ears  alert  almost  any  bright 
morning  in  early  June,  a  few  minutes'  patience  rewards  me  with 
the  distinct  identification  of  the  following  elements  of  song,  veri- 
fied from  careful  notes  which  tally  year  by  year — what  a  revela- 
tion to  the  pilgrim  from  city  walls,  where  the  scolding  of  the 
garrulous  sparrows  in  the  ivy,  the  occasional  scream  of  the  night- 
hawK,  the  cooing  of  the  pigeon,  and,  perhaps,  an  occasional  pro- 
fane parrot,  have  summed  up  the  ornithological  inspiration ! — 
robin,  bobolink,  wood-thrush,  cat-bird,  oriole,  orchard  oriole,  mead- 
ow-lark, wren,  kingbird,  brown  thrush,  Wilson's  thrush,  red-eyed 
vireo,  warbling  vireo,  white -eyed  vireo,  yellow-hammer,  chewink, 
rose-breasted  grosbeak,  purple  finch,  song-sparrow,  yellow  winged 
sparrow,  chipping-sparrow,  field-sparrow,  bluebird,  phcebe,  yellow 
warbler,  swallow,  goldfinch,  quail,  nighthawk,  and  crow.  Nor  are 
these  all,  incredulous  reader.  My  list  is  confined  only  to  those 
songs  which  are  more  or  less  incessant  in  my  merry  medley.  I 
have  omitted  the  tanager,  the  grackle,  the  indigo-bird,  the  red- 
start, and  others,  whose  notes  either  occasionally  reach  my  ears  or 
are  involved  in  doubt,  to  say  nothing  of  the  owl  and  whippoorwill, 
with  their  duet  lullaby  of  the  twilight. 

And  what  an  endless  diversion,  this  picturesque,  kaleidoscopic 
music,  this  pastoral  opera,  every  fresh  recognition  bringing  its 
vision  of  some  favorite  feathered  songster,  each  with  its  welcome 
of  personal  reminiscence ! 

The  fringe  of  wood  beneath  the  hill  sends  up  its  faithful  com- 
plement through  the  rippling  maze  of  song,  in  which  the  weird 
call  of  the  veery,  the  bell  of  the  wood-thrush,  and  the  challenge 
of  the  chewink  form  a  more  or  less  interrupted  trio,  occasionally 
silenced  by  the  piercing  note  of  the  meadow-lark  or  the  whistle 
of  the  quail,  while  again  the  resonant  tattoo  of  the  yellow-hammer 
rings  from  its  hollow  tree,  or  that  coaxing,  cooing  note  now  fills 
some  momentary  lull:  —  how  are  the  flashes  of  golden  wing,  the 
pearly  lucent  eggs,  the  old  bleached  limb  and  all,  embodied  in 
that  pictorial  sound  — "  wick,  wick,  wick,  wick,  wick !" 


Why  this   brief  vision  of 
golden  filigree  that  seems  sud- 
denly  flung   across    my   fancy  ? 

What  is  the  talisman  ?  "  I've  cheated  ye,  per  chick  o  pee,  per 
chick  o  pee."  What  but  the  tiny  goldfinch  that  has  passed  over- 
head in  its  looping  flight,  festooning  the  ether  in  glancing  drap- 
ery of  black  and  gold,  each  embroidered  loop  pinned  with  a  wisp 
of  song !  The  crimson  tufts  of  the  thjstle-blooms  now  seem  hov- 


ering there,  or  in  magic  fruition,  the  silvery  down 
9 


jlistens  in  the 


66  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

airy  eddies,  for   are   not  all   the   meadow-thistles  following  him? 
Now  gleams  a  sunflash  from  some  familiar  glassy  pond,  as 

"the  thin-winged  swallow,  skating  on  the  air," 

leaves  a  brief  token  of  twitter  in  exchange  for  a  buzzing  fly  that 
erewhile  hovered  beneath  the  porch. 

And  now  the  soft  breeze  seems  laden  with  a  new  enchant- 
ment. A  shadow  falls  upon  my  closed  eyes,  and  the  scent  of 
grass  and  clover  gives  place  to  the  cool  hint  of  hemlock,  and 
tinctured  mould,  and  pungent  spikenard  roots,  and  mossy  trick- 
ling rocks ;  I  hear  the  gurgling  of  the  brook  and  the  sounds  of  a 
rumbling  bridge,  and  all  seem  dancing  attendance  on  a  vague, 
mossy  nest  somewhere  stowed  away ;  for  has  not  that  brief  call  of 
"  Phoebe !"  spoken  for  all  from  the  barn  beyond  ? 

Hark,  from  the  apple-tree  in  the  field  below,  that  note  so 
full  and  ripe  and  mellow !  "A  robin,"  say  you  ?  No ;  nor  an 
oriole.  There  is  a  distinct  individuality  in  that  song,  which,  while 
suggesting  both  these  birds,  still  differentiates  it  in  many  re- 
spects as  the  superior  to  either,  as  though  from  a  fuller  throat,  a 
more  ample  vocal  source.  It  is  one  of  the  rarest,  choicest  voices 
among  all  our  feathered  songsters,  in  timbre  and  volume  surpass- 
ing the  thrush,  and  in  these  qualities  unequalled,  I  think,  by  any 
of  our  birds.  Listen  to  the  overflowing  measure  of  its  melody ! 
How  comparatively  few  the  notes,  and  yet  how  telling! — no  sin- 
gle tone  lost,  no  superficial  intricacies.  Sensuous,  and  suffused 
with  color,  it  is  like  a  rich,  pulpy,  luscious,  pink-cheeked  tropic 
fruit  rendered  into  sound.  Such  would  seem  the  irresistible  fig- 
ure as  I  listen  with  closed  eyes  to  the  welling  notes  —  a  figure 
entirely  independent  of,  though  certainly  sustained  in,  the  ornitho- 
logical form  pictured  in  the  song,  sitting  quietly  on  an  upper 
twig,  with  full  plump  breast  as  carmine-cheeked  as  the  autumn 
apples  now  promised  in  the  swelling  blossom  calyxes  among 
which  it  so  quietly  nestles.  I  can  see  the  jetty  head,  and  quills 
splashed  with  silvery  white,  and  the  intervals  of  song  seemed 
spanned  with  rosy  light  as  pure  as  the  prism  released  from  those 


upraised  wings  as  the 
singer  preens  his   plumage 
with  ivory  bill.     This  is  the  rose- 
breasted  grosbeak,  with  his  overflow- 
ing cup,  his  pastoral  cornucopia,  his 
musical  horn  of  plenty. 

If,  as    Hawthorne    believed  —  a 
most    inspiring    and    ennobling   faith 
for  the   fields — "each   humblest  weed 
stands  there  to  express  some  thought 
or  mood  of  ours,  and  yet  how  long  it 
stands   in   vain,"  what  shall   be   said   of 

the  conscious,  buoyant,  throbbing  singing-birds?  "How  many 
human  aspirations  are  realized  in  their  free  holiday  lives,  and  how 
many  suggestions  to  the  poet  in  their  flight  and  song!"  How 
many  are  the  burdens  lifted  on  their  wings  and  dissipated  in 
their  music,  whose  mysterious  message  has  brought  peace ! 

"  Verily  verily :    you  know  it :  you  see  it :   cheery  are   we :  we 
cheer  you" — such  is  the  melodious  witness  that  seems  to  descend 


"THE   PREACHER. 


68  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

from  heaven  through  the  maple-tree  above  us.  "You  are  weary: 
we  see  it:  listen  to  me:  meekly:  cheery  are  we:  O  why  is  it: 
verily  verily :  this  is  it:  holy  spirit:  devotee:  verily  verily :  there 
we  owe  it:  believe  me:  'tis  real:  we  know  it:  Selah  /" 

It  is  the  voice  of  the  "preacher"  celebrating  his  matins  in  his 
temple  of  the  tree-top,  and  filling  the  morning  with  unremitting 
praise  and  counsel — the  most  sustained  and  tireless  song,  and  the 
most  communicative  voice  among  all  our  birds.  No  other  one 
of  them  speaks  so  clearly  in  our  own  tongue,  or  seems  so  much 
to  imply  a  listener.  As  will  be  seen,  the  song  is  not  a  rapid, 
elusive  warble.  It  is  a  deliberate,  continuous  recitative  rather 
than  a  song,  each  phrase  followed  by  a  distinct  pause,  and  each 
pause  seeming  to  formulate  with  an  oracular  effect  the  brief  pas- 
sage which  follows,  all  of  which  are  variously  accented  and  full 
of  variety  of  inflection,  as  I  have  endeavored  to  indicate. 

Often  have  I  sat  by  the  hour  beneath  his  shrine,  and  long  is 
the  list  of  mellifluous  exclamations,  exhortations,  texts,  and  pre- 
cepts which  I  have  caught  from  his  votive  throat.  On  one  occa- 
sion alone  I  filled  my  page,  and  though  he  had  been  in  continu- 
ous song  for  exactly  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  I  left  him  ere  he 
had  reached  his  "  secondly." 

Bringing  my  testimony  to  date,  I  can  add  furthermore  that 
during  last  July,  subsequent  to  the  writing  of  the  above  in  a 
magazine  article,  he  surpassed  himself  in  eloquence.  At  that 
time  I  occupied  my  summer  studio  in  the  woods.  He  had  me 
at  an  advantage  and  did  most  commendable  missionary  work. 
On  one  particular  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  he  greeted  me  with 
his  "listen  to  me"  and  "there  we  owe  it";  and  having  thus 
voiced  his  theme,  preached  without  ceasing  until  half-past  twelve, 
at  which  hour,  when  I  left  for  luncheon,  he  was  yet  undiminished 
in  unction,  and  apparently  no  nearer  the  benediction  than  when 
he  announced  his  text. 

I  have  said  that  he  speaks  the  human  tongue,  and  in  partial 
proof  thereof  I  may  mention  that  long  before  I  knew  of  our 
red-eyed  vireo's  title  of  "Preacher" — given,  I  believe,  by  Wilson 
Flagg— I  Had  noted  down  the  "you  know  it "  and  "you  see  it" 


BIRD    NOTES.  69 

which  he  quotes  from  the  tree-top  singer,  while  further  incontest- 
able evidence  of  the  bird's  orthodoxy  is  given  in  another  portion 
of  this  volume. 

What  else  our  ornithological  bird  is  doing  up  there  in  the 
tree -top  is  shown  in  the  following  from  Nuttall:  "For  all  the 
while  that  this  chorus  enchants  the  hearer,  the  singer  is  casually 
hopping  from  spray  to  spray  in  quest  of  his  active  or  crawling 
prey;  and  if  a  cessation  occurs  in  his  untiring  lay,  it  is  occa- 
sioned by  the  caterpillar  or  fly  he  has  just  captured"  —  which  re- 
calls a  bonmot  in  relation  to  the  bird  which  I  once  heard  from 
Mr.  Beecher,  who  remarked  to  me  upon  his  piazza  at  "  Bosco- 
bel,"  while  his  fancy  hovered  aloft  in  the  maples,  "That  little  fel- 
low has  found  a  land  of  plenty  up  there,  and  he  says  grace  like 
a  little  Christian  at  every  mouthful." 

The  world  had  long  been  wondering  what  tidings  lay  within 
the  robin's  song  that  should  carry  the  same  joyous  message  to 
all,  until  an  inspired  poet  told  us.  Were  we,  then,  deaf  never  to 
have  heard  those  words  before :  "  Cheerily,  cheer  up !  cheer  up ! 
Cheerily,  cheerily,  cheer  up!"  It  is  not  every  one  of  our  birds, 
however,  that  has  found  such  an  interpreter  as  he  who  has  given 
us  this  most  beautiful  and  perfect  onomatopoeia ;  but  there  are 
many  songs  which,  whether  as  sympathetically  rendered  or  not, 
have  nevertheless  been  so  aptly  paraphrased  as  to  afford  their 
ready  recognition.  There  is  the  brown  thrasher,  for  instance, 
whose  stray  notes  reach  our  ears  from  the  grassy  road  yonder.  In 
Concord,  we  learn,  he  was  wont  to  superintend  the  spring  planting 
— of  beans,  perhaps — with  lively  interest  and  counsel.  "  Drop  it, 
drop  it;  cover  it  up,  cover  it  up;  pull  it  up,  pull  it  up,  pull  it  up!" 
in  perfect  Anglo-Saxon.  Over  the  border  in  Connecticut,  I  can 
vouch  for  his  somewhat  similar  strain,  while  farmers  everywhere 
will  recognize  that  faithful  voice  of  the  pasture,  that  curt  and  com- 
prehensive summons  from  the  tangled  lane,  always  associated  with 
the  brown  furrows  of  the  cornfield  and  the  time  of  blooming  dog- 
woods : 

"Shuck  it,  shuck  it;  sow  at,  sow  it; 
Plough  it,  plough  it ;  hoe  it,  hoe  it !" 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 


As  affording 
some  light  on  the 
popular  name  of  "thrash- 
er," I  might  mention  the 

remark  of  a  certain  matter-of-fact  rustic  who  answered  my  query 
for  enlightenment  on  the  subject.  "Some  fokes  sez  it's  becuz 
he's  aliz  a-thrashin'  around  so  in  the  bushes,  'n'  others  sez  it's 
becuz  he's  ferever  tellin'  uv'  em  to  'thrash  it,  thrash  it!'  But 
thet's  all  puppy-cut;  he  sez  enny  thing  you  like?  What  would  this 
unconverted  heretic  say  to  the  "  Peverly  bird,"  that  won  this  local 
christening  as  a  tribute  from  a  perplexed  husbandman  hesitating 
at  his  choice  of  crops: — "Sow  wheat,  Peverly,  Peverly" — a  refrain 
which  is  vouched  for  by  many  discriminating  listeners.  Yet  there 
are  other  heretics  who  aver  that  this  is  all  "  puppy-cut,"  and  that 
the  little  white-throated  sparrow  in  reality  voiced  a  reproof  to  old 
Peverly  which  he  wouldn't  own : — "All  day  whittling,  whittling, 
whittling." 


BIRD    NOTES.  >j  l 

There  are  few  happier,  more  unmistakable,  transcripts  from 
bird  notes  than  in  that  line  of  Emerson's: 

"The  redwing  flutes  his  'O  ka  lee.'" 

In  this  brief  transcript  have  we  not  an  epitome  of  the  sentinel- 
starling,  scarlet  epaulets,  sable  uniform,  precious  magazine  of  spot- 
ted eggs  and  all  ?  In  the  "  Conk-a-ree  "  so  often  found  among 
the  pages  of  Thoreau's  spring  notes  we  have  an  equally  felicitous 
reminiscence  of  this  tenant  of  the  bog.  Such  is  the  challenge 
that  comes  to  you  across  the  spatter-docks,  the  tussocks,  and  the 
alders  almost  any  day  in  May.  With  either  key  you  will  find 
your  bird ;  and  yet  I  am  satisfied  from  dearly  bought  experience 
that  a  closer  intimacy  with  the  source  of  the  sound  reveals  a  cer- 
tain subtle,  soggy,  boggy  regurgitation  which  is  missed  in  both  of 
them — echoes  caught  from  a  safe  distance.  There  is  more  of  the 
gurgle  and  the  wet  ooze  in  it — "Gl-oogl-eee"  is  the  distinct,  un- 
colored  utterance  with  which  patience  in  a  sheltered,  knee-deep 
mud-hole  will  reward  you  after  the  "quit,  quit"  has  subsided 
among  the  cat-tails  and  the  willows. 

WTho  could  not  name  the  Maryland  yellow-throat  from  the 
challenge  caught  by  Burroughs  as  he  loitered  in  the  bushy  retreat 
of  the  bird  —  "Which  way,  sir?  which  way,  sir?  which  way,  sir?" 
or  his  "  Teacher,  teacher,  teacher,  teacher "  of  the  woods,  known 
else  as  the  oven-bird ;  or  his  bluebird,  whose  warble  he  calls  "  the 
violet  of  sound,"  and  which  says  "Purity,  purity"  to  him  and  ever- 
more to  us  all?  But,  alas!  how  are  our  senses  attuned  to  our 
moods !  or  is  this  "  drearily,  drearily  "  among  the  flying  leaves  of 
November  in  truth  the  same  song  which  we  heard  in  April  ? 

Among  these  incessant  spring  roundels  you  certainly  have  not 
failed  to  note  that  occasional  piercing  shaft  of  song  which  seems 
to  cleave  the  air  straight  from  the  hill-side  meadow  beyond — "  I 
see;  I  see  you."  Who  needs  to  prowl  among  fence-rails  to  dis- 
cover that  black  crescent  breast  and  tapering  bill  of  the  meadow- 
lark,  the  young  sportsman's  tempting  target,  and  the  playful 
"cache,  cache"  of  the  little  French  folk  of  our  Acadian  country? 


72  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

Not  a  few  of  our  common  birds  have  been  self-christened,  and 
are  at  one  in  the  popular  as  well  as  the  scientific  vocabularies. 
The  phcebe,  chickadee,  chebec,  chewink,  towhee,  pewee,  and  Bob 
White  need  no  printed  plate  or  page  for  their  identification.  Nor 
does  the  whippoorwill,  known  throughout  the  continent  by  its 
weird  nocturnal  cry.  Indeed,  how  little  else  than  this  uncanny 
"wandering-  voice"  of  the  bird  is  known  to  the  popular  mind! 
How  many  a  rural  octogenarian  will  you  find  who  has  ever  seen 
the  strange,  wide-eyed,  mottled  bird  that  from  earliest  memory, 
perhaps,  has  made  its  nightly  haunt  upon  his  well-sweep  or  even 
the  domestic  door-sill  ? 

The  penny  trumpet  of  the  nuthatch  occasionally  takes  up  its 
tiny  part  in  the  orchestral  score  from  the  maple  above  the  house. 
"  Ouah,  quah,"  says  Thoreau ;  but  the  "Yank,  yank"  of  Burroughs 
is  certainly  more  truly  caught,  not  only  in  its  phonetic  quality,  but 
in  its  suggestiveness  of  that  prying,  tugging  bill  among  the  scales 
and  crevices  of  bark. 

I  am  not  aware  that  poet  or  ornithological  stenographer  has 
yet  transcribed  the  vocal  performance  of  the  wren — those  "five 
notes  to  wanst,"  as  the  Hibernian  listener  once  observed  (and  pat 
it  was  in  truth)  —  being  certainly  very  discouraging  to  such  an 
undertaking.  And  there  is  another  of  our  bird  songs  scarcely 
less  disheartening  in  its  intricacy.  How  have  the  bird  historians 
and  poets  labored  in  its  whirling  rapids  —  cast  their  hooks  and 
nets,  as  it  were,  to  catch  the  bursting  bubbles  in  its  rippling 
wake !  Listen !  that  pell-mell,  gushing  rhapsody  from  the  mead- 
ow below — a  sextet,  with  obligate  and  piccolo  variations  —  all 
from  a  single  throat.  Can  it  be  possible,  indeed,  that  yonder 
sable  minstrel  swaying  on  the  dock  is  alone  responsible  for  all 
this  Babel  ?  Hark !  a  moment  more  and  he  will  find  his  breath 
again.  There !  "  Bob  o'  link  o'  loo  o'  happy  go  lucky  O  lucky." 
Such  is  often  the  introductory  refrain,  once  or  twice  repeated, 
with  a  brief  interval.  But  who  shall  follow  the  subsequent  vocal 
revelations  ?  Even  though  possible  of  analysis  by  the  ear,  would 
it  not  take  six  pens  in  simultaneous  effort  to  chronicle  ?  Who 
knows  what  unsuspected  melody  may  not  be  submerged  in  that 


BIRD    NOTES.  73 

tiny  impulsive  torrent?  The  temperate  guide  of  the  music-box 
cylinder  yields  a  long  and  pleasing  strain  to  the  ear;  but  what 
is  the  chaos  when  from  defective  machinery  that  barrel  is  per- 
mitted to  revolve  its  circuit  in  a  few  seconds !  Such  is  the  par- 
allel always  suggested  by  this  song  of  the  bobolink.  I  feel  that 
beneath  all  that  dizzy  tintinnabulary  some  rare  melody  is  smoth- 
ered. O  Bob!  what  precious  strain  might  we  not  disclose  to  the 
world  could  we  but  control  the  wild  spring  impulse  within  your 
breast  and  put  a  fly-wheel  on  your  vocal  machinery ! 

From  time  to  time  through  a  long  period  of  years  I  have 
added  an  occasional  note  or  two  to  my  singular  vocabulary  caught 
from  this  meadow  doggerel — a  syllable  here,  a  word  there,  from 
my  trip  across  the  meadow,  a  few  more  from  my  covert  by  the 
stone  wall,  or  a  whole  string  of  them  as  I  lay  beneath  the  elder- 
bush,  while  the  minstrel  swayed  upon  the  blossomed  roof  over- 
head. Certain  notes  would  seem  easily  translatable,  almost  as 
though  implying  an  Anglo-Saxon  intention  on  the  part  of  the 
bird,  but  others  can  only  be  phonetically  suggested.  Here  is  the 
list,  copied  from  my  random  notes  covering  a  number  of  years. 
And  what  a  pot-pourri  they  make  when  strung  together,  with  oc- 
casional interpolations  for  sequence ! 

"  Bob  o'  link  o'  love  o'  lucky  o'  linkum  o'  linkum  a  jingle  a  jin- 
gle a  ditty  bob  for  bonny  Missus  Linkum  see  see  keep  an  eye 
up  here  my  sweet  see  see  hear  me  tinkle  tinkle  sprinkle  such  a 
liquid  mellow  glee  wet  your  whistle  bob  temperance  O  gush  a 
gurgle  scatter  splatter  such  a  carol  as  she  alone  can  follow  fol- 
low pipe  it  pipe  it  bob  O  tintinnabulate  for  temperance  temper- 
ance whink  a  seeble  seeble  here  I  go  across  the  clover  sprink 
a  jinkle  sprinkle  treble  burst  a  bubble  purl  a  babble  gabble  glee 
shake  it  out  upon  the  meadow  chink  a  link  a  wheedle  see 
look'ee  look'ee  ninkum  ninkum  deacon  yonder  see  yessir  yessir 
funny  fellow  he  whew  whew  but  I  must  seek  a  rest  for  my  cap 
is  coming  off  and  I  can  hardly  keep  my  jacket  on  whew  tem- 
perance temperance." 

But  why  attempt  the  impossible.^  Why  add  another  to  the 
many  parodies  of  this  elusive  meadow  song  ?  The  phonograph 


74  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

alone  shall  resolve  that  performance  to  its  elements  and  render 
us  its  units  of  sound.  Not  until  thus  secured,  and  his  phonetic 
"cylinder"  then  slowly  revolved  for  analysis,  shall  we  learn  what 
Robert  has  so  long  been  guarding  from  our  ears  beneath  all  this 
vocal  acrobatics. 

Many  friends  of  Mr.  Beecher  will  recall  his  "  bobolink  "  jar- 
gon, with  which  he  was  wont  "  to  set  the  table  on  a  roar,"  and  in 
whose  mad  whirl  this  half-drowned  ingredient  of  "temperance" 
occasionally  struggled  to  the  surface.  And  I  note  that  Bur- 
roughs also  has  detected  in  the  song  this  same  token  of  rebel- 
lious conscience,  while,  whether  from  anticipation  or  not,  my  own 
ears  have  certainly  discerned  something  very  like  it  interspersed 
with  Pickwickian  effect — catching  at  straws,  as  it  were — in  the 
tide  of  this  exuberant,  bubbling  effervescence. 

How  have  the  poets  followed  Bob  afield,  eavesdropping  in  his 
domain,  but  while  they  have  occasionally  reflected  his  ecstatic 
spirit,  who  among  them  has  brought  back  his  voice  ?  The  robin, 
the  bluebird,  the  chickadee,  and  various  other  birds  have  found 
their  stenographers,  but  not  Bobolink. 

Bryant's  well-known  poem  makes  only  a  slight  attempt  at 
onomatopoeia,  while  in  Wilson  Flagg's  noted  tribute  to  the  bird 
I  find  a  much  more  satisfying  and  accurate  presentation  both  in 
spirit  and  phonetic  suggestion  of  song.  We  all  remember  that 
delightful  chapter  in  which  Irving  evolves  a  touching  moral  to 
birds  and  boys  through  this  his  favorite  "joy  of  the  meadows," 
and  our  page  can  readily  bear  a  repetition  of  that  true  bit  of  por- 
traiture by  Lowell,  as  voiced  in  the  provincial  tongue  of  Hosea 
Biglow : 

"  June's  bridesman,  poet  o'  the  year, 
Gladness  on  wings,  the  bobolink  is  here ; 
Half  hid  in  tip-top  apple-bloom  he  sings, 
Or  climbs  against  the  breeze  with  quiverin'  wings, 
Or,  givin'  way  to  't  in  a  mock  despair, 
Runs  down  a  brook  o'  laughter  thro'  the  air." 

That  last  line  is  worth  a  whole  page  of  phonetics,  and  recalls 
that  wonderful  parallel  passage  of  Thoreau's — to  me  the  most 


THE   BOBOLINK   AT    HOME. 


76  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

felicitous  effort  within  my  knowledge  of  similar  descriptive  litera- 
ture. What  keenness  of  perception,  subtle  appreciation  of  tone 
quality,  and  literary  art  are  embodied  in  that  remarkable  para- 
graph!  How  does  it  revive  that  eager  anticipation  quickened 
by  the  first  notes  of  the  song  —  a  prelude  promise  which  Bob 
never  fulfils — that 

••  Single  note,  so  sweet  and  low, 
Like  a  full  heart's  overflow; 
But  which  we  fail  to  hear  again." 

"  I  hear  the  note  of  the  bobolink  concealed  in  the  top  of  an 
apple-tree  behind  me.  Though  this  bird's  full  strain  is  ordinarily 
somewhat  trivial,  this  one  seems  meditating  a  strain  as  yet  un- 
heard in  meadow  or  orchard.  Paulo  majora  cauamus.  He  is 
just  touching  the  string  of  his  theorbo,  his  glassichord,  his  water- 
organ — and  one  or  two  notes  globe  themselves  and  fall  in  liquid 
bubbles  from  his  tuning  throat.  It  is  as  if  he  touched  his  harp 
within  a  vase  of  liquid  melody,  and  when  he  lifted  it  out  the 
notes  fell  like  bubbles  from  the  trembling  strings.  Methinks  they 
are  the  most  liquidly  sweet  and  melodious  sounds  I  ever  heard. 
They  are  as  refreshing  to  my  ear  as  the  first  distant  tinkling  and 
gurgling  of  a  rill  to  the  thirsty  man.  Oh  never  advance  further 
in  your  art,  never  let  us  hear  your  full  strain,  sir!  But  away  he 
launches,  and  the  meadow  is  all  bespattered  with  melody." 

It  matters  not  that  the  English  dictionary  affords  us  no  ti- 
dings of  the  "  glassichord  "  or  "  water-organ."  The  dictionary  is 
inadequate  to  the  occasion,  for  these  are  the  veritable  instruments 
of  the  bobolink  prelude  as  truly  as  that  last  line  is  the  epitome  of 
the  musical  cascade  which  follows. 

But  it  was  reserved  for  Florence  Percy  to  give  us  our  rol- 
licking, "devil-may-care  Bob"  as  we  all  know  him  —  an  inter- 
preter who,  presenting  the  bird  under  the  character  of  "  the  tell- 
tale," has  infused  the  very  mischief  of  that  "wild  and  saucy  song" 
into  her  page.  Who  that  has  noted  that  suggestive,  self-suffused, 
ecstatic  strut  of  the  gay  Romeo,  as  with  drooping  wings  and 


BIRD     NOTES.  77 

circling  pirouette  he  waltzes  about  his  little  brown  mate  down 
there  in  the  grass,  will  not  recognize  the  portrait?  What  does 
the  saucy  banterer  say  to  the  startled  sparrow  "  warbling  his  wed- 
ding tune  "  in  supposed  seclusion  ? 

"  Balancing  on  a  blackberry  brier, 
The  bobolink  sung  with  his  heart  on  fire: 
'  Chink  ?     If  you  wish  to  kiss  her,  do  ! 
Do  it,  do  it,  you  coward  you ! 
Kiss  her !  kiss  kiss  her !  who  will  see  ? 
Only  we  three,  we  three,  we  three !' " 

And  when  the  little  pair  sought  a  safer  retreat: 

"Again  beside  them  the  tempter  went. 
Keeping  the  thread  of  his  argument : 
'  Kiss  her !  kiss  her !  chink-a-chee  chee. 
I'll  not  mention  it ;  don't  mind  me  ! 
I'll  be  sentinel — I  can  see 
All  around  from  this  tall  birch-tree !" 
But  ah !  they  noted,  nor  deemed  it  strange, 
In  his  rollicking  chorus  a  trifling  change. 
'  Do  it,  do  it !'  with  might  and  main 
Warbled  the  telltale—4  do  it  again  ."  " 


Bryant  has  given  us  a  hint  of  Bob's  apparel : 

"  Robert  of  Lincoln  is  gayly  drest, 
Wearing  a  bright  black  wedding-coat ; 
White  are  his  shoulders  and  white  his  crest." 

A  "wedding"  dress,  in  poetic  fancy  as  well  as  in  fact;  for  the 
full-grown  fledgling  in  the  tussock  nest  would  scarcely  recognize 
the  courtly  sire  of  its  pin-feather  days.  This  festive  costume  is 
assumed  only  at  the  mating  season,  a  sort  of  sympathetic  outward 
expression  of  the  ornamental  vocal  accomplishment,  for  both  sub- 
side in  company. 

During  the  month  of  July  the  sobering  process  is  conspicuous, 


yg  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

while  in  August  you  will  seek  in  vain  for  your  bobolink,  though 
the  meadow  be  full  of  them. 

This  Protean  accomplishment  of  the  bird  has  led  to  much 
misconception,  not  only  in  the  popular  mind,  but  among  the  orni- 
thologists as  well,  the  dual  guise  suggesting  two  distinct  species, 
a  common  supposition  even  yet  among  those  who  have  not  wit- 
nessed the  metamorphosis.  Bob,  moreover,  pays  a  severe  penalty 
in  this  relinquishment  of  his  merry  motley  of  cap  and  bells. 

In  his  annual  September  migrations,  from  Maine  to  Florida, 
he  runs  the  gantlet  of  the  gourmand  guns  aimed  at  those  two 
prospective  bites  from  his  plump  breast ;  for  whether  as  "  reed- 
bird"  in  Pennsylvania  or  "rice-bird"  in  Louisiana,  the  appearance 
of  his  flocks  is  a  whet  to  the  epicurean  appetite  and  to  wholesale 
slaughter.  Go  to  our  market -stalls,  not  only  in  the  South,  but 
here  in  the  very  haunt  where  his  song  has  barely  ceased  in  the 
meadows,  and  see  the  sickening  traffic  in  these  plucked  and  man- 
gled little  bodies.  "Reed-birds,  twenty-five  cents  a  bunch!"  Alas! 
there  would  seem  to  be  a  hundred  of  our  population  who  enjoy 
their  bobolinks  on  toast  to  one  who  realizes  the  song  that  will  be 
forever  missed. 

My  hill-top  piazza  affords  a  rare  opportunity  for  observing  the 
aerial  play  of  the  nighthawks.  Regularly  every  afternoon,  in  the 
interval  between  four  o'clock  and  sunset,  they  awake  from  their 
day-dozing,  and  one  by  one  join  the  revellers  aloft  —  now  climbing 
the  heavens  with  rapid  spiral  flight,  whence  with  a  sudden  dip 
and  folded  wings  they  plunge  headlong  down,  down,  as  though  to 
dive  into  the  glassy  mill-pond  in  the  valley  below;  and  now,  with 
a  sweeping  curve  of  magnificent  grace  and  proportions,  skimming 
the  tree -tops  in  buoyant  upward  glide,  while  we  catch  the  vibrant 
twang  of  the  cleaving  wings. 

How  has  that  mysterious  sound  puzzled  the  investigators! 
What  is  its  source  ?  I  have  attributed  it  to  the  wings ;  but  all 
of  our  ornithologists  have  had  their  guess  at  this  "  boom,"  as  it  is 
called.  Wilson  Flagg  apparently  considered  it  a  vocal  effort,  as 
implied  in  his  remark  that  "  it  utters  a  singular  note,  resembling 
the  twang  of  a  viol  string."  Others  have  laid  the  sound  to  the 


BIRD    NOTES.  79 

door  of  that  "capacious  mouth  while  passing  through  the  air." 
Wilson  so  inferred,  and  significantly  compared  the  noise  to  that 
produced  "by  blowing  strongly  into  the  bung-hole  of  an  empty 
hogshead."  Audubon,  I  believe,  was  the  first  to  suspect  the  wings 
of  the  bird  as  the  resonant  source,  presumably  the  long  quill 
vanes ;  and  there  would  seem  to  be  many  circumstances  to  ver- 
ify his  conjecture,  the  sudden  horizontal  tilt  of  the  wings  which 
determines  the  upward  finish  of  the  swoop,  and  which  is  always 
simultaneous  with  the  "boom,"  tending  to  reinforce  his  theory. 
The  fact  which  I  have  discovered,  that  a  fair  imitation  of  the 
sound  can  be  produced  by  blowing  between  the  leaves  of  a  book, 
loosely  held,  would  seem  to  suggest  a  similar  vibratory  origin. 

On  two  occasions,  moreover,  I  have  observed  a  quite  similar, 
though,  of  course,  diminished  sound,  produced  by  swallows,  and 
in  both  cases  unquestionably  proceeding  from  the  wings  and  dur- 
ing a  quick  curvet  of  flight  as  they  dove  about  the  "  well-dissem- 
bled fly"  which  I  swung  aloft  from  my  fishing-rod. 

I  have  never  attempted  the  test,  but  have  often  wondered 
whether  a  nighthawk's  wing,  skilfully  adjusted  to  a  slender  fish- 
ing-rod and  swept  through  the  air,  might  not  be  made  to  give 
forth  that  veritable  twang ! 

Once,  while  passing  through  a  pasture,  I  almost  stepped  upon 
what  appeared  to  be  an  irregular  piece  of  bark  which  had  fallen 
from  a  neighboring  fence-rail.  It  lay  there  in  the  grass,  and  only 
the  effect  of  exact  symmetry  in  form,  accentuated  by  the  white 
spots  upon  its  pinions,  dispelled  the  illusion — for  it  was  a  night- 
hawk.  The  position  of  the  bird  showed  at  once  something  un- 
usual. According  to  its  habit,  by  day,  its  eyes  were  closed  to 
a  mere  crevice.  Half -supposing  the  bird  to  be  dead,  I  stooped 
to  pick  it  up,  but  only  to  be  met  with  an  angry  flutter,  the  bird 
darting  at  me,  showing  the  full  interior  of  his  throat  and  uttering 
a  hoarse  screech,  while  the  black  depths  of  the  now  widely  open- 
ed eyes  simultaneously  lit  up  with  a  lurid  rosy  glare.  This  was 
repeated  at  my  slightest  movement  towards  the  wounded  bird,  for 
I  soon  discerned  that  its  wing  was  broken,  presumably  a  cruel 
penalty  for  a  heedless  swoop  against  a  telegraph-wire  overhead. 


8o 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


I  took  the  wounded  bird  home,  and 
for  some  days  fed  it  with  rose-bugs, 
.       which    it   swallowed    by 
the  handful  after  smear- 
ing the  same  with  a  vis- 
cid gluten  which  exuded 
from   the   mouth.     Woe, 
indeed,  to  the  hapless  fly 
that  chances  to  get  into 
that  limed  pit ! 


Not    many    days    after    the 
above  incident,  I  chanced  upon 
a  nighthawk  with  young.    The 
mother-bird  flew  up  almost  at 
my  feet  and  ambled  off,  pursu- 
ing the  familiar  flopping  antics  of  her 
kind,  simulating  the  broken  wing  and 
epileptic  fit,  and  flattening  herself  out 
on  the  stone  wall,  followed  precisely  the  same  manoeuvres  which 
I    had    often    noticed   in    her   congener,  the    whippoorwill,    under 


BIRD     NOTES.  8 1 

similar  circumstances ;  the  same  waddling  uneasy  squat,  with  out- 
stretched wings  and  staring  eyes.  Observing  that  the  bird  had 
risen  from  a  small,  flat,  lichen-tufted  rock,  I  intently  focused  my 
eye  for  those  anticipated  animated  bits  of  moss  in  the  shape  of 
fledglings,  and  soon  differentiated  from  the  bed  of  lichen  their 
fuzzy  identity.  They  were  not  broivn,  as  Wilson  says,  but  sug- 
gested a  tufty  spot  of  gray  mould  not  only  in  color  but  in 
melting  cloudy  quality,  its  edge  on  the  one  side  seeming  to 
vanish,  while  on  the  other  mainly  manifest  by  relief  against  its 
shadow  on  the  rock.  The  callow  twins  were  presumably  about 
two  days  old,  and  the  wisdom  of  their  singular  flat  build  now 
seemed  perfectly  attested,  as  they  hugged  close  and  motionless 
to  their  bed.  Thus  they  appeared  when  first  observed,  their  in- 
herited instinct  teaching  them  the  perfect  safety  of  their  dis- 
guise and  the  prudence  of  quiescence.  The  immediate  surprise 
being  over,  however,  the  two  sluggish,  sleepy-eyed  innocents  were 
suddenly  transformed.  With  surprising  agility  they  were  both 
on  their  feet,  and  with  out- stretched  necks  and  comical  skinny 
wings  high  upraised,  they  made  quick  time  for  the  bordering  jun- 
gle of  grasses.  The  sudden  appearance  of  these  long  fuzzy  el- 
bowed flippers  seemed  like  hocus  pocus,  for  the  downy  sides  give 
no  hint  of  their  presence.  When  headed  off  and  returned  to 
their  original  nest — for  the  nest  of  the  nighthawk  is  simply  a 
hollow,  among  lichen  worn  by  the  nesting  bird  —  the  outlandish 
little  babes  became  quite  docile,  following  my  out -stretched  finger 
with  wide-open  mouths  and  quivering  flippers,  and  uttering  weak, 
high-keyed  plaints  somewhat  suggestive  of  the  comfortable  whis- 
pering interchange  beneath  the  brooding  hen  in  the  coop. 

In  the  night  I  revisited  the  scene,  with  the  intention  of  kid- 
napping this  interesting  family — a  fool's  errand,  it  might  be  said, 
knowing  full  well  that  those  same  sleepy,  half-closed  eyes  which 
at  noontide  would  delude  you  to  steal  a  hand  upon  that  boozy 
sphinx  upon  the  wall  are  now  inviting  all  the  visible  darkness  to 
their  full  round  depths.  Remembering,  however,  the  mesmeric 
effect  of  the  "jack-light"  upon  other  ^nocturnal  game,  I  conclud- 
ed to  test  the  effect  of  my  dark -lantern's  glare  upon  my  bird. 


82  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

Creeping  close  to  the  spot  already  carefully  located,  the  rock  soon 
gleamed  in  the  full  light  of  my  bull's-eye;  but  it  was  only  after 
several  minutes  of  the  closest  scrutiny  that  the  form  of  the  bird 
gradually  assumed  shape  mysterious  and  sphinx-like  as  she  brood- 
ed her  downy  fledglings.  Can  I  ever  forget  these  soft,  deep, 
round  black  eyes,  motionlessly  staring  into  the  glare  now  held 
close  before  her  face?  I  had  come  to  lay  hands  upon  her,  but 
now  with  her  form  within  easy  reach,  and  my  hand  in  eager 
spread,  I  was  vanquished. 

For  a  period,  I  know  not  how  long,  I  crouched  in  the  shadow 
of  my  lantern,  my  face  barely  two  feet  from  the  statuesque  form 
of  this  strange  bird ;  and  although  intent  on  her  capture,  yet  in 
the  soft,  unwinking,  all-observing  stare  of  those  great  mild  eyes, 
I  confess  to  a  mesmeric  charm  that  stayed  my  eager  hand.  At 
last,  in  a  momentary  triumph  of  prosaic  scientific  fervor,  I  made 
a  clutch  for  my  prize — but  presto!  my  open  fingers  only  arched 
above  an  empty  void  which  soon  disclosed  the  tw*o  downy  sleep- 
ing sphinxlets  manifest  only  by  touch.  The  parent  bird  had 
seemingly  spirited  herself  into  air,  and  in  the  mood  of  the  mo- 
ment such  seemed  the  fitting  denouement. 

Only  by  feeling  could  the  two  chicks  be  found.  The  light  of 
the  lantern  failed  to  locate  them  even  then,  except  by  the  shad- 
ows which  they  cast.  Though  apparently  asleep,  they  were,  in 
truth,  keenly  awake,  for  after  the  lapse  of  a  minute  or  so  they 
were  up  and  on  their  feet,  pursuing  the  same  acts  as  at  mid-day, 
running  off  into  the  grass  with  surprising  agility  for  two  babes 
rudely  awakened  from  the  cradle,  uttering  the  familiar  plaintive 
peep  which,  with  the  fleeting  shadows  accompanying  them,  af- 
forded the  only  means  of  following  their  imperceptible  identity. 
Foreseeing  the  danger  both  to  mother  and  young  from  a  too 
eager  clutch,  and  having  little  confidence  in  my  alertness  against 
such  odds  of  vision  and  hocus  pocus,  I  returned  home,  and  af- 
ter allowing  the  bird  ample  time  to  get  herself  together  again, 
I  revisited  the  scene,  provided  with  a  butterfly  net.  Again  steal- 
ing upon  the  bird  as  before,  and  without  permitting  myself  to 
be  brought  beneath  her  spell,  I  lost  no  time  in  clapping  the  net 


BIRD    NOTES.  83 

over  her,  and  thus  secured  the  whole  queer  family.  I  took 
them  home,  and  on  the  following  morning  made  the  studies  from 
which  the  accompanying  pen- drawing  was  perfected.  The  moth- 
er-bird seemed  to  be  oblivious  to  all  but  her  two  hungry  babes, 
brooding  them  and  uttering  a  low  hoarse  croak,  to  which  they 
always  responded.  The  young  became  very  tame,  and  manifest- 
ed a  degree  of  hunger  entirely  consistent  with  their  cavernous 
resources,  pursuing  my  finger  with  open  mouths  whose  capacity 
seemed  to  reach  the  core  of  their  being.  From  whichever  side 
I  approached,  these  two  comical  little  creatures  came  for  me  pre- 
cipitately, with  pleading,  upraised  wings  and  gaping  mouths. 

In  the  so-called  "drumming"  of  the  ruffed  grouse,  that  soft 
murmurous  tattoo  by  which  his  ardent  lordship  musters  his  little 
company  of  willing  captives,  we  have  another  familiar  sound  as 
yet  as  much  wrapped  in  mystery  as  the  "boom  "  of  the  nighthawk. 
How  felicitously  Trowbridge  revives  this  exciting  reminiscence  of 
the  woods: 

"The  partridge  beats  his  throbbing  drum." 

But  he  leaves  us  to  surmise  the  nature  of  that  "  drum  "  which 
has  so  long  puzzled  the  world.  Wilson,  though  a  professional 
natural  observer,  from  whom  a  more  specific  account  might  have 
been  expected,  is  equally  non-committal.  "The  bird  strikes  with 
stiffened  wings  in  short,  quick  strokes,"  he  says,  with  perfect  safe- 
ty. Elliot  is  equally  guarded  in  his  observation  that  the  drum- 
mer "beats  swiftly  downward."  Burroughs,  however,  is  more  to 
the  point,  and  assures  us  that  the  bird  strikes  "  its  own  proud 
breast,"  which  tallies  with  the  authority  of  Audubon,  who  dis- 
covered that  the  wings  "  beat  the  sides  of  the  bird."  Bryant  is 
of  the  same  opinion ;  so  is  Peabody,  and  a  host  of  others,  though 
Burroughs,  I  believe,  later  changed  his  view. 

Earlier  naturalists,  too  numerous  to  recount,  however,  have 
definitely  located  this  mysterious  drum,  the  hollow  "  drumming- 
log  "  having  long  been  considered  a  necessary  adjunct  to  this 
muffled  roll.  Such  has  been  the  most  commonly  accepted  theory, 
seemingly  abetted  by  the  bird  itself,  from  its  singular  preference 


84 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 


for  a  fallen  log  as  the  seat  of  the  musical  performance.  Even 
the  sporting  authorities  are  so  convinced,  one  recent  prominent 
writer  asserting  that  "if  the  bird  happens  to  find  a  dry,  well- 


BIRD    NOTES.  85 

placed  log  his  tattoo  can  be  heard  a  mile."  Since,  however,  it 
has  been  repeatedly  discovered  that  the  mysterious  resonant  flut- 
ter is  accomplished  equally  as  well  upon  a  rock,  or  even  upon  the 
bare  ground,  the  "drumming-log"  theory  has  lost  favor.  Now  ap- 
pears a  conservative  coterie  who  would  seem  desirous  of  concili- 
ating the  disputants,  while  determined  to  be  on  the  winning  side 
anyhow ;  Brewer,  for  instance,  who  claims  that  the  bird  "  beats 
its  sides  and  the  log"  simultaneously,  a  belief  which  is  shared 
by  Samuels  and  many  followers. 

Against  this  I  would  oppose  the  witness  of  another  unprofes- 
sional but  equally  close  observer,  the  writer,  in  truth,  who  deposes 
and  says  that  the  bird  does  nothing  of  the  kind;  that  in  the  one 
instance,  though  brief,  where  its  movements  were  observed  by 
him,  the  clearly  defined  limit  of  the  visible  whir  of  the  wings 
seen  from  behind  demonstrated  that  no  feather  of  the  bird's  wing 
touched  the  body  or  the  log  upon  which  the  bird  stood ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  feathery  halo  almost  merged  over  the 
back,  suggesting  a  new  possibility  in  the  resonant  source. 

Not  to  be  outdone  by  the  opposing  diplomatists,  here  we  find 
another  class  who  would  seem  to  rest  their  case  in  the  artful  non- 
committal of  Wilson,  claiming  to  connect  his  negative  suggestion 
above  with  the  positive  statement  that  the  bird  "  strikes  nothing 
but  the  air" 

Following  the  suggestion  intimated  from  my  own  observation 
opens  up  a  new  line  of  investigation.  Here  is  the  testimony  of 
Wilson  Flagg,  for  instance :  "  Whenever  I  have  gained  sight  of  a 
partridge  in  the  act  of  drumming,  he  seemed  to  elevate  his  wings 
and  strike  them  together  over  his  back,  increasing  the  rapidity  of 
the  strokes,"  etc. 

But  Thoreau  long  anticipated  him,  as  witness  the  following 
from  his  journal  for  the  year  1855,  in  which  he  chronicles  the 
discovery  of  a  neighbor  who  was  wont  to  prove  his  assertions : 
"  He  had  seen  a  partridge  drum  standing  on  a  wall ;  said  it  stood 
very  upright,  and  produced  the  sound  by  striking  its  wings  to- 
gether behind  its  back,  as  a  cock  often  does,  but  did  not  strike 
the  wall  or  its  body.  This  he  is  sure  of,  and  declares  that  he 


86  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

is  mistaken  who  affirms  the  contrary,  though  it  were  Audubon 
himself." 

This  is  the  utterance  of  conviction,  and  its  unqualified  tran- 
script in  Thoreau's  page  adds  almost  the  value  of  his  indorsement. 

Nor  is  this  all  the  mystery  connected  with  the  "  drummer." 

There  is  almost  as  wide  a  difference  of  opinion  concerning 
the  attitude  of  the  performer  as  there  is  in  relation  to  his  tech- 
nique. We  may  take  our  choice  between  position  erect,  as  in 
the  instance  last  mentioned,  which  is  verified  by  many  authorities; 
or  horizontal,  as  described  by  Elliot,  while  Audubon  leaves  us  to 
take  our  choice,  simply  assuring  us  that  the  bird  "  stretches  him- 
self out "  during  the  process.  Some  say  that  his  head  is  thrown 
back  towards  the  tail,  others  that  it  is  lowered.  Indeed  no  two 
grouse  would  seem  to  follow  the  same  professional  method.  Here 
is  certainly  an  opportunity  for  some  investigator  to  distinguish 
himself.  The  authorities  are  all  at  sixes  and  sevens  on  the  mat- 
ter, and  so  long  as  the  mere  eye -memory  is  the  only  witness  the 
riddle  will  still  remain  unsolved.  The  musical  flutter  of  the 
grouse  will  continue  to  hoodwink  the  human  eye. 

We  have  all  seen  ocular  demonstration  of  otherwise  occult 
facts  through  the  revelations  of  the  Muybridge  photographs  of 
animals  in  motion — the  astonishing  transitory  attitudes  of  trotting 
horse,  kicking  mule,  jumping  dog,  and  even  the  flight  of  birds — 
picturing  what  would  seem  anatomical  impossibilities.  What  a 
chance  for  the  "  snap-shot "  camera  in  this  rapid  manoeuvre  of  the 
grouse  !  I  am  not  aware  that  the  bird  will  drum  in  captivity. 
Who,  then,  among  our  amateurs  with  the  camera  will  pit  his  wits 
against  the  shy  mysterious  drummer  in  his  own  haunts,  and  bring 
away  his  secret  in  the  unimpeachable  photograph  ?  Why  not  an 
artful  screen,  fortified  with  camera,  by  the  side  of  that  favorite 
"drumming-log"?  Such  has  been  a  long-brooding  plan  of  mine, 
but  as  yet  unfulfilled. 

Whatever  the  final  verdict  shall  be,  the  writer  is  serenely  con- 
fident that  if  this  muffled  roll  of  the  grouse  demands  anything 
beyond  the  atmosphere  as  its  drum,  it  will  prove  to  be  chanti- 
cleer who  gives  the  key-note  to  his  gallinaceous  tribe  as  he  "claps 


BIRD    NOTES.  87 

his  wings  at  dawn."  Yet  here  again,  what  wonder  that  the  elu- 
sive whir  of  the  partridge  should  have  defied  analysis,  when  no 
less  an  authority  than  the  peerless  Audubon  himself  was  deceived 
even  in  the  moderate  performance  of  the  clumsy  rooster — or  can 
it  be  that  all  the  rest  of  us  are  blind? — for  does  he  not  tell  us 
that  the  grouse  "  beats  his  sides  after  the  manner  of  the  domestic 
cock"?  I  recall  also  the  parallel  lines  from  the  "Summer- day" 
of  Hume,  where  the  "crested  bird"  is  again  misrepresented: 

"With  gilded  eyes  and  open  wings, 

The  cock  his  courage  shows ; 
With  claps  of  joy  his  breast  he  dings, 
And  twenty  times  he  crows." 

This  will  be  news  to  many  a  country  boy  who  knows  the  clumsy 
antics  of  his  pet  "  Shanghai." 

We  all   know  the  "drummer";  many  of   us   have    heard    the 
"  drumming,"  but  who  will  show  us  the  drum  ? 


"O  Birds,  your  perfect  virtues  bring, 
Your  song,  your  forms,  your  rhythmic  flight, 
Your  manners  for  the  heart's   delight, 
Nestle  in  hedge,  or  barn,  or  roof. 
Here  weave  your  chamber  weather  proof ; 
Forgive  our  harms,  and  condescend 
To  man,  as  to  a  lubber  friend, 
And,  generous,  teach  his  awkward  race 
Courage,  and  probity,  and  grace!" 

EMERSON. 


' '  Of  birdes  nests. 
Ye  sowrce  of  all  tbir  armonie." 


• ': 


HAT  is  but  a 

superficial    stu- 
dent   of   ornithology    who   is 
content  to   know  his   birds  by 
the   mere   specific   characters  of 
anatomy,  plumage,  and  egg ;  who 
shoots    his    bird,   and    names    the 

dead  body  afterwards  by  the  analytical  key — a  songless  orni- 
thology. Even  though  he  shall  name  his  specimen  at  a  glance — 
Latin  tag  and  all  — he  may  yet  have  less  ornithology  in  his  soul 
than  his  unlettered  country  cousin  —  the  old  miller,  perhaps,  who 
will  tell  us  that  "the  hang-bird  has  been  there  on  such  a  morn- 
ing, unravelling  his  bagging  or  stealing  his  tie  string;"  who  will 
point  out  to  us  "the  teeter-bird  that  picks  the  water-bugs  from 
the  wet  stones  for  his  long-legged  fuzzy  young  uns;"  or  the  "lit- 
tle brown  chap  with  speckled  breast  that  builds  a  nest  jest  like 


92  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

an  oven,  year  after  year,  down  yonder  among  the  weeds  below 
the  mill,  and  calls  'queeche,  queeche'  every  time  I  look  out  of  the 
window."  Does  he  not  know  his  birds,  even  though  he  might 
fail  to  identify  their  skins  ? 

Even  the  amusing  testimony  of  the  savants  of  the  French 
Academy  who  presented  to  Cuvier  for  identification  a  descrip- 
tion of  a  certain  "  red  fish  that  walked  backward "  is  not  with- 
out its  distinct  value.  "  Of  course,"  replied  the  naturalist  instant- 
ly, "  you  mean  a  crab,  though  it  is  not  a  fish,  neither  is  it  red, 
nor  does  it  walk  backward."  The  learned  tyro  would  at  least 
show  his  "fish"  where  he  found  it  in  its  native  element,  and 
though  his  vision  appears  to  have  been  somewhat  askew,  his  was 
a  worthier  aim  and  attitude  than  the  other  extreme  of  exact  sci- 
ence which  has  to  do  merely  with  museum  specimens,  with  a 
ready  list  of  synonyms  in  place  of  an  inspiring  reminiscence,  with 
wire  and  tow  as  a  substitute  for  animation  and  song.  "A  bird 
in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush"  is  a  pagan  motto  for  the 
ornithologist.  "  The  bird  is  not  in  its  ounces  and  inches,"  says 
Emerson,  "  but  in  its  relations  to  nature ;  and  the  skin  or  skele- 
ton you  show  me  is  no  more  a  heron  than  a  heap  of  ashes  into 
which  his  body  has  been  reduced  is  Dante  or  Washington." 
The  true  ornithologist  knows  his  bird  in  the  bush  before  he 
converts  it  into  a  specimen ;  and  to  truly  know  his  bird  in  its 
bush  he  must  have  been  admitted  to  its  home.  Neither  the 
color  of  the  plumage  nor  the  shape  and  decoration  of  its  egg, 
while  so  essential  in  the  scientific  classification  of  the  bird,  are 
any  index  to  its  conscious  being — the  true  bird.  Bobolink  doffs 
his  white  cap,  not  from  desire  or  volition,  but  because  he  can't 
help  it.  These  functions  are  fulfilled  in  spite  of  the  bird  and 
are  beyond  his  control,  while  even  the  finer  attributes  of  hab- 
its and  song  may  be  said  to  be  scarcely  less  spontaneous  and 
automatic. 

Not  so  the  nest  — the  home,  the  cradle.  In  these  exquisite 
fabrics,  materializations  of  the  supreme  aspirations  in  the  life  of 
the  bird,  we  have  at  once  a  key  to  its  mind,  an  epitome  of  its 
loves,  its  hope,  solicitude,  providence,  its  individuality,  its  energy, 


BIRD     CRADLES. 

caution,  intelligence,  reason  and 
economy,  discrimination,  taste, 
fancy,  even   its   caprice   and 
whim,  almost  of  its  humor. 

In  their  arts  we  may  learn 
something   of   their  mental   re- 
sources, even  as  the  antiquary  dis- 
covers in  the  remnant  decorated  rel- 
ics of  an  extinct  people  testimonies  not 
disclosed  by  the   mummy.      To  know 
the  nidification  and  nest  life  of  a  bird 
is  to  get  the   cream   of  its  history. 
We  may  snap  our  fingers  at  vocab- 
ularies and  synonyms. 

Even  an  empty  nest  is  still  elo- 
quent with  interest.     A  few  of  them 
have  been   gathered  about  me  as  I 
write;   and   how  beautiful    they  are! 
Here  is  one  picked  up  at  random.    Not 
a  rare  specimen  from  the  tropics,  but 
an  every-day  affair  of  our  country 
walks.     What  an  interesting  study 
of  ways  and  means  and  confident 
skill !     Hung  by  its  edge  from 
a  horizontal  fork  of  a  maple 
twig,  with  a  third  of  its  cir- 
cumference   unsupported,  it 
is   yet   so   boldly  wrought 
that    this    very   span    shall 
serve  as  the  perch  of  the  parent 
bird.      Its  edge   is  plainly  com- 
pressed, though   barely  depressed, 
by  evident  continual  use,  and  con- 
sidering the   nature  of  the   materials 
at  this  portion  its  stability  was  perfectly 
insured.     What  nice  discrimination  in  the 


93 


94  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

choice  of  strands  by  which  the  nest  is  anchored  to  the  swinging 
bough,  its  support  being  almost  entirely  dependent  upon  a  cer- 
tain brown  silk  from  the  cocoon  spider  (Argiope  Riparia). 

Often  in  my  rambles  have  I  pulled  this  floss  from  its  round 
tough  cocoon  suspended  among  the  weeds,  and  wondered  wheth- 
er the  arts  might  not  yet  prove  its  utility!  And  here  it  is,  ad- 
justed with  artful  design  just  where  its  need  is  most  apparent 
and  its  strength  recommends  it,  lapping  and  overlapping  the 
forks,  and  extending  across  the  span  from  twig  to  twig,  where  it 
is  interwoven  and  twisted  with  strong  strips  of  bark  and  long 
wisps  from  the  stalk  of  the  milk-weed  or  similar  hempen  sub- 
stance. The  economy  of  this  spider  silk  is  manifest  in  all  the 
five  nests  of  this  kind  which  are  before  me,  and  while  it  appears 
occasionally  lower  down  in  the  structure,  these  outcroppings 
prove  to  be  only  the  ends  of  the  loops  which  encompass  the 
twig  and  are  securely  anchored  among  the  interwoven  meshes 
of  the  fabric.  The  reliance  of  the  bird  on  the  strength  of  this 
material  would  seem  perfectly  plain,  for  in  the  nests  wherein  it  is 
largely  employed  much  fewer  strands  of  bark  are  passed  about 
the  twigs  than  when  the  inferior  white  cobweb  is  used  at  this 
point  of  support — a  fact  which  I  have  often  noticed. 

The  cobweb  element  forms  an  important  amalgam  in  the 
nests  of  all  the  vireos,  of  which  the  above  will  be  recognized  as  a 
specimen.  Laid  on  in  snowy  tufts,  or  artfully  twisted  into  fine 
threads — I  cannot  believe  this  twisting  to  be  accidental — meshed 
about  the  basket  framework  or  drawn  across  some  precious  bit  of 
hornet's  nest  or  glistening  yellow  birch-bark  or  newspaper  clip- 
ping, or  hung  below  in  fluffy  tassels,  it  is  a  recognized  badge  of 
this  particular  tribe  of  feathered  architects,  whose  pendent  nests 
are  among  the  most  picturesque  of  all  our  birds.  The  hereditary 
art  of  nidification  of  the  vireos  has  probably  suffered  little  change 
through  the  ages.  As  a  rule  their  nests,  unlike  those  of  other 
pensile  builders,  are  wrought  from  Nature's  own  raw  materials, 
and,  even  as  we  generally  find  them,  might  have  been  constructed 
a  thousand  miles  from  the  haunts  of  man  or  a  thousand  years 
ago.  And  yet,  in  one  particular  respect,  it  must  be  admitted,  the 


BIRD     CRADLES. 


95 


nest  often  betrays  the  degenerating  human  contact.  It  is  an  ad- 
mitted fact  that  many  of  the  vireos  manifest  a  strange  fascination 
for  the  newspaper,  fragments  of  which  are  often  a  conspicuous 
contamination  in  their  motley  fabrics,  composed  most  commonly 
of  generous  strips  of  white  and  yellow  birch,  hornet's  nest,  dried 
leaves,  grape-vine  bark,  asclepias  hemp,  bits  of  wood  and  pith, 
and  various  other  ingredients. 

It  was  this  well-known  propensity  of  the  bird  that  won  it  the 
name  of  "  the  Politician "  from  an  ornithological  friend  of  Wil- 
son;  an  appellation  especially  given  to  the  white -eyed  vireo,  al- 
though from  my  experience  the  others  are  equally  deserving  of 
the  soft  impeachment. 

How  often  have  I  paused  in  the  woods  to  study  the  strange 
ingredients  of  these  vireos'  nests,  of  which  I  have  dissected  at 
least  a  hundred,  in  many  of  which  the  newspaper  had  formed  an 
element.  And  why  is  it  that  I  am  always  led  with  such  eager 
quest — yes,  even  at  the  risk  of  life  and  limb  on  one  occasion— to 
scan  these  ragged,  weather-beaten  fragments  of  print,  as  though 
consulting  the  oracle !  'Tis  true  they  usually  disclose  but  little 
intrinsic  reason  for  their  conspicuous  preferment,  though  I  do  re- 
member one  or  two  exceptional  instances ;  once  in  my  boyhood, 
when  I  enjoyed  a  great  laugh  at  the  disclosures  of  one  such  lit- 
erary fragment,  the  precise  nature  of  which  has  escaped  me,  save 
that  it  was  an  advertisement  having  a  comical  relation  to  the 
bird  world.  But  my  memory  is  distinct  of  having  brought  the 
editorial  selection  home  in  my  pocket,  where  it  was  subsequently 
forgotten  and  reduced  to  pi  among  the  jack-knives,  buttons,  jack- 
stones,  and  other  usual  concomitants  of  the  small  boy's  outfit. 
The  nest  I  well  remember.  It  was  suspended  in  a  small  thicket 
and  variously  supported  by  the  bend  of  a  bramble  and  stalks  of 
hardback  and  meadow-rue.  I  did  not  see  the  birds,  as  the  nest 
was  abandoned,  and  though  not  a  typical  vireo's  nest,  it  was  so 
conspicuously  decked  out  with  editorials  and  advertisements  that, 
out  of  respect  to  Wilson,  I  was  constrained  to  accept  it  as  a  bad 
case  of  "the  Politician." 

It  has  remained  for  the  red-eyed  vireo,  however,  to  reward  my 


96 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 


curious  pains  for  enlightenment  as  to  the 
editorial  discrimination   of  these   nests, 
and  considering  the  popular  name 
which  Wilson  Flagg  has  bestowed 
upon  the  bird,  "the   Preacher," 
from   its   well-known   habit  of 
launching  precepts  by  the  hour 
from  its  tree-top  pulpit — the 
text  from  my  nest  would  cer- 
tainly seem   to  reinforce  his 
happy  title.     In  this  nest  are 
about  six  pieces  of  newspaper, 
of  various  jagged  shapes  and 
sizes ;  but  among  them  all 
the  only  complete  sen- 
tence  anywhere   to  be 
discovered  in  the  print 
— and  this  appearing  as 
though  obviously  treas- 
ured— is  the  follow- 
ing :  "Have  in  view 
the  will  of  God." 
And    yet    I 
suppose    there 
are    those    who 
would    affirm    that 
this    selection    was    a 
matter  in  which  the  voli- 
tion of  the  bird  had  no  part 
whatever ! 

It  has  always  been  a 
favorite  pastime  with  me, 
in  my  autumn  walks,  this 
dissecting  of  abandoned  nests  of  all  kinds,  then  disclosed  to  view 
in  the  denuded  woods — this  unravelling  of  the  warp  and  woof 
of  these  nature-woven  fabrics,  extracting  the  secrets  of  the  downy 


BIRD     CRADLES. 


97 


bed  of  warblers,  analyzing  the  queer  components  in  the  hollow  of 
a  stump,  picking  apart  the  felted  masses  in  deserted  woodpeckers' 
dens,  since  plainly  occupied  by  chickadee,  creeper,  bluebird,  nut- 
hatch, or  crested  flycatcher,  and  disclosing  by  the  aid  of  a  mag- 
nifier a  wide  variety  of  curious  textile  elements.  How  endless 
and  whimsical  the  choice  of  building  materials  for  which  Nature 
has  been  laid  in  tribute  by  the  bird,  from  the  tree-top  cradles  of 
the  orioles  to  the  soft  feather-beds  of  the  wrens,  the  curled-hair 
mattress  of  the  chipping-sparrow,  the  basket  cribs  of  the  starlings 
among  the  rushes,  the  mossy  snuggeries  of  the  oven-bird,  and  the 
adobe  of  swallow,  phcebe,  and  robin,  with  their  various  preferences 
of  pine-roots,  bark,  strings,  feathers,  hornet's  nest,  caterpillar  hairs, 
wool,  skeletonized  leaves,  cobwebs,  spider-egg  tufts,  fur  of  various 
animals,  pappus  of  seeds  of  all  sorts — dandelion,  thistle,  cat-tail 
willow  —  gleaned  from  the  thickets,  the  trees,  the  air,  the  barn- 
yard, the  stable,  the  poultry-yard,  even  from  your  vestibule  door- 
mat or  window-sill. 

The  individual  preferences  of  a  few  of  our  more  common 
birds  afford  a  number  of  interesting  facts.  "  When  I  want  a 
horse-hair  for  my  compass-sight,"  says  Thoreau,  "  I  must  go  to 
the  stable ;  but  the  hair-bird,  with  her  sharp  eyes,  goes  to  the 
road."  The  nest  of  the  chipping-sparrow  is  commonly  lined 
with  horse-hair,  a  fact  which  has  won  the  name  of  hair-bird  to  the 
species ;  although  several  others  of  the  sparrows,  notably  the  field- 
sparrow  and  song- sparrow,  are  equally  partial  to  this  particular 
carpet  for  their  nursery.  Burroughs  recounts  the  bold  incident 
of  a  sparrow  picking  a  hair  from  the  body  of  a  horse.  Who  ever 
sees  a  coon-hair  in  the  woods  ?  And  yet  here  is  the  solitary 
vireo  that  gleans  in  the  crafty  trail  of  that  animal,  through  fern 
and  brier  and  hollow  logs,  and  rarely  fails  to  feather  her  nest 
with  the  soft  fur.  What  is  the  secret  of  this  peculiar  preference? 
In  the  wilder  regions  of  the  country  the  hair  of  the  deer  is  also 
said  to  be  a  common  substitute  or  accompaniment.  Certain  ob- 
servers claim  that  the  red -eyed  vireo  has  an  occasional  fancy 
for  squirrel-hair,  which  is  sometimes  fo.und  in  considerable  quan- 
tities in  its  nest.  I  have  found  what  I  have  assumed  to  be  the 
13 


98 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


abandoned  nest  of  the 
solitary  vireo,  distin- 
guished mainly  from 
the  others  by  the 

hairy  lining  and  the  employment  of  moss 
and  lichen  within  the  interior;  one  nest 
being  plentifully  lined  with  sheep  wool  from 
a  neighboring  pasture.  The  snow-bunting  would  be  at  a  loss  in 
its  boreal  nest  without  the  fur  of  the  arctic  fox.  Various  of  these 
cradle-building  ingredients  readily  recommend  their  utility  in  the 
qualities  of  strength,  pliability,  warmth,  etc.,  while  others  again 
are  only  to  be  accounted  for  on  the  hypothesis  of  the  passing 
whim  or  humor  of  the  builder.  Twigs,  strips  of  tough  bark, 
string,  wiry  roots,  grass,  spider  silk,  cocoons,  vegetable  strands 
of  one  kind  and  another,  all  appeal  to  our  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things,  but  what  special  advantage  is  indicated  in  the  following 
instances  of  caprice  ?  Here  is  the  worm-eating  warbler,  for  in- 
stance, whose  nest  is  seldom  free  from  dried  hickory  and  chestnut 


BIRD     CRADLES.  gg 

catkins.  The  oven-bird's  hut  is  generally  intermeshed  with  fruit- 
ing stems  of  urn  moss,  with  their  dried  spore-caps.  The  Nash- 
ville warbler  is  partial  to  a  mesh  of  pine  needles  and  horse-hair; 
while  the  purple  finch  considers  hog-bristles  and  horse-hair  a 
more  suitable  compound.  The  Kentucky  warbler,  and  various 
other  warblers,  show  a  preference  for  the  pith  of  weeds.  Per- 
haps the  prairie  warbler  has  discovered  some  rare  virtue  in  cast- 
off  caterpillar  skins  that  ordinary  humanity  cannot  guess,  its  nest, 
I  am  told,  usually  showing  a  penchant  towards  this  singular  in- 
gredient. 

But  this  bird  is  not  alone  in  this  odd  choice,  of  which  others 
of  the  warblers  and  the  vireos  occasionally  avail  themselves.  In 
addition  to  spider  silk,  and  cocoon  silk,  I  have  discovered  evi- 
dences that  the  web-tent  of  the  apple-tree  caterpillar  is  occasion- 
ally raided  for  material,  having  identified  numbers  of  the  cater- 
pillar skins  among  the  web  meshes  of  the  vireos  and  redstart. 
The  oriole  visits  the  web-nest  too,  but  on  a  different  errand  for 
her  cradle.  I  once  observed  one  of  these  birds  mysteriously  pry- 
ing about  one  of  these  tents.  It  left  me  hardly  time  to  guess  its 
object,  but  quickly  thrust  its  head  through  the  silken  walls  and 
took  its  pick  of  the  fattest  caterpillars  in  the  squirming  interior, 
carrying  them  to  what  it  evidently  considered  as  more  appropri- 
ate surroundings  in  the  hang-nest  above.  I  once  found  a  nest 
of  the  red-eye  which  exhibited  a  marked  entomological  preference, 
being  composed  largely  of  the  hairy  cocoons  of  the  small  tussock- 
moth,  and  conspicuously  decorated  with  a  hundred  or  more  of  the 
black  skins  of  the  antiopa  caterpillar,  of  all  ages.  What  a  singu- 
lar waste  of  energy  one  would  naturally  think  was  here  revealed 
in  the  search  for  a  material  which  at  best  must  be  a  rare  in- 
gredient in  the  wild  gleaning.  But  the  inference  does  injustice 
to  the  bird's  intelligence.  Assuming  that  there  is  an  advantage 
in  the  material,  and  granting  the  bird  even  a  school-boy's  knowl- 
edge of  the  habits  of  a  conspicuous  insect,  few  substances  could 
be  acquired  at  a  less  expense  of  time  than  these  withered  skins ; 
for  the  caterpillars  of  the  antiopa  live  in  swarms  of  hundreds, 
sometimes  of  thousands,  in  the  elms  and  swamp -willows,  and 


100 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 


leave  their  black,  spiny,  cast-off  skins — of  all  their  five  periodic 
moults — attached  to  the  denuded  branches  upon  which  the  larvae 
have  fed. 

In  another  amusing  specimen  I  found  a  large  piece  of  hor- 
net's nest,  four  inches  broad,  arranged  as  a  pendant,  and  dangling 
from  this  a  string  of  brilliants  that  glittered  like  emeralds,  and 
which  proved  to  be  three  dead  blue-bottle  flies  entangled  in  spider 


silk.   Whether  or  not 
especial  attractions 
cobweb   thus    en- 
justed  the  flies  by 
determine.     But  it 
decorative   sense   is 


the    bird    had    appreciated   the 
of  some  particular  remnant  of 
riched,  or  had  deliberately  ad- 
way  of  ornament,  I  could  not 
is   undeniable   that    a  similar 
frequently  displayed    in    their 


nests,  certain  rare  treasures  being  held  in 
reserve  for  finishing  touches  of  adornment, 

even  as  I  once  actually  witnessed  the  careful  adjustment  of  a 
bright  green  iridescent  feather  of  a  peacock  beneath  a  pendent 
nest  in  a  rose-bush  just  outside  the  closed  blinds  of  my  room. 
What  twitterings  of  congratulation,  mutual  suggestion,  and  experi- 
mental touches  ere  the  dainty  prize  found  its  final  setting ! 

In  the  same  bush  I  discovered,  later,  a  small  narrow  wisp   of 
lace,   abandoned   to    the    antagonism    of    the   thorns,  though    not 


BIRD     CRADLES.  IOI 

without  obvious  evidences  of  struggle  and  disappointment — fresh 
commentary  on  a  well  known  text  in  proverbial  philosophy. 

There  is  obvious  wisdom  in  the  use  of  cocoons  and  hornets' 
nests,  so  much  sought  after  by  pensile  builders — compact,  tough 
fabrics  in  themselves,  they  are  naturally  chosen  for  their  strength. 
But  it  is  not  easy  to  explain,  on  any  grounds  of  utility,  the  un- 
canny discrimination  of  the  great  crested  flycatcher,  whose  nest 
in  the  hollow  tree  would  seem  to  demand  no  thought  for  other 
qualities  than  softness  and  warmth.  Once,  in  my  boyhood,  while 
investigating  the  fascinating  hollow  in  an  old  willow-tree,  where 
I  had  once  surprised  a  day -dozing  owl,  I  found  the  familiar 
matted  felt  at  the  bottom  largely  intermixed  with  fragments  of 
snake-skin.  Knowing  the  habits  of  snakes  in  the  casting  of 
their  skins,  having  once  or  twice  found  them  in  the  grass,  I  fell 
to  wondering  whether  it  could  be  a  common  practice  of  the 
black  snake  or  "  racer "  to  climb  a  tree  for  the  purpose  of  exu- 
viation. Later  on  the  mystery  was  solved,  having  learned  in 
my  ornithology  that  the  great  crested  flycatcher  considered  the 
snake -skin  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  nest -linings.  The  nidification 
of  this  bird  usually  takes  place  in  the  deserted  retreat  of  the 
woodpecker,  and  is  seldom  without  its  complement  of  one  or 
more  snake-skins,  which  are  frequently  interwoven  in  a  bed  of 
hog-bristles  and  feathers,  rather  indicating  a  peculiar  fancy  for 
exuvice. 

But  here,  again,  who  knows  but  what  some  stray  vireo's  nest 
—those  catch  -  alls,  samplers  of  nature's  nest -textiles  —  may  not 
have  given  the  flycatcher  the  hint.  I  have  a  vireo's  nest  in  my 
possession  which  is  largely  composed  of  snake-skins,  and  they  are 
frequently  thus  found. 

The  purple  finch,  according  to  some  authorities,  is  addicted 
to  a  similar  whim  occasionally.  Of  course  either  of  these  excep- 
tional cases  may  represent  nothing  more  than  a  successful  raid 
on  some  abandoned  nest  of  the  flycatcher. 

The  toad  is  said  to  habitually  swallow  its  cast-off  skin,  in 
which  case  the  red-eye  must  have  once  surprised  him  in  the  gas- 
tronomic act,  for  in  one  of  my  analyses  of  these  nests  I  discov- 


102 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


ered  an  unmistakable  fragment  of 
one  of  these  skins,  tipped  with  its 
tiny  pellucid  glove. 

The  winged  seeds  of  plants  are 
a  staple  article  in  the  harvest 
for  the  nests.     The  great  or- 
der of  Composite  feathers  the 


A   SNAKE-SKIN   SPECIALIST. 


cradles  of  thousands  of  our 
birds,  enveloping  their  egg- 
treasures  or  fledglings  in  a 
bed  as  soft  as  swan's-down  ; 
the  plumy  seeds  of  thistle,  milk-weed,  dandelion,  and  lettuce  be- 
ing probably  the  most  favored. 

Nuttall  gives  us  a  pretty  picture  of  the  home-building  whims 
of  the  yellow  warbler — a  prize  for  the  cabinet  truly! 

"  The  nest  is  extremely  neat  and  durable ;  the  exterior  is 
formed  of  layers  of  silk-weed  lint,  glutinously  though  slightly  at- 
tached to  the  supporting  twig,  mixed  with  some  slender  strips  of 
fine  bark  and  pine  leaves,  and  thickly  bedded  with  the  down  of 


BIRD     CRADLES. 


103 


willows,  the  Nankeen  wool  of  the  Virginia  cotton-grass  (Eriopho- 
rum  Virginicum),  the  down  of  fine  stalks,  the  hair  of  the  downy 
seeds  of  the  button-wood  (Platanus),  or  the  pappus  of  compound 
flowers,  and  then  lined  either  with  fine  bent  grass  (Agrostis]  or 
down  and  horse-hair,  and,  rarely,  with  a  few  accidental  feathers," 
presenting  a  fanciful  bit  of  bird  architecture  as  well  as  a  keen 
piece  of  analysis,  in  which  the  erudite  botanist  is  as  conspicuous 
as  the  ornithologist. 

One  other  "  yellow  bird,"  the  goldfinch,  builds  a  similarly  ex- 
quisite home,  but  reserves  its  nesting  till  a  much  later  season 
than  most  of  our  birds,  a  fact  which  has  caused  no  little  discus- 
sion among  naturalists ;  the  commonly  accepted,  though  hardly 
satisfactory,  theory  having  reference  to  a  scarcity  of  the  required 
seed-food  for  the  young  during  the  vernal  months.  In  a  similar 
vein  of  reasoning  it  might  be  claimed  that  the  nesting  was  de- 
ferred to  await  the  ripening  of  certain  favorite  plumy  seeds  of 
which  the  structure  is  usually  composed.  One  theory  is  as  good 
as  the  other,  for  both  are  somewhat  shattered  by  numerous  in- 
stances of  nidification  as  early  as  the  middle  of  May,  in  which 
the  nest  is  of  course  composed  of  seasonable  downy  elements ; 
for  the  willows  and  poplars  then  offer  their  silken  tribute,  and 
the  dandelion  balls  cloud  the  meadows. 

For  some  years  I  was  puzzled  to  account  for  a  certain  muti- 
lation which  I  had  often  observed  on  the  dandelion.  As  is  well 
known  to  some  of  my  readers,  the  dandelion  usually  blooms  three 
consecutive  days,  after  which  the  calyx  finally  closes  about  the 
withered  flower,  and  withdraws  beneath  the  leaves.  Here  it  re- 
mains for  a  week  or  more,  its  stem  gradually  lengthening  while 
the  seeds  are  maturing,  until,  on  the  fourteenth  day  from  the 
date  of  first  flowering,  the  smoky  ball  expands.  For  some  days 
prior  to  this  fulfilment  the  seeds  are  practically  full -feathered,  the 
growing  pappus  having  forced  the  withered  petals  from  the  tip 
of  the  calyx.  On  several  occasions  I  have  observed  the  side  of 
their  calyces  torn  asunder  and  the  interior  completely  emptied  of 
its  contents  of  a  hundred  or  more  winged  seeds.  I  had  attrib- 
uted the  theft  to  some  whimsical  caterpillar  appetite,  until  one 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


day  I  surprised  the  true  burglar  in  the  act.  I  observed  a  small 
black  bird  rummaging  suspiciously  in  the  grass,  and  suddenly 
saw  him  fly  to  a  branch  near  by  with  a  tiny  puff  in  his  bill — a 
downy  tuft  on  one  side  and  a  bundle  of  seeds  on  the  other — 
the  spot  from  which 
he  flew  disclosing  one 
of  the  telltale  rifled 
calyces  of  the  dande- 
lion. The  bird, 
not  immediately  _/ 


identified,  soon  spread  its  name  abroad 
in  the  rosy  gleam  from  its  fan -shaped  tail 
— the  redstart.  I  subsequently  discovered 
the  nest  in  a  low-hanging  fork  of  an  apple- 
tree,  and  a  dainty  structure  it  was,  exquisitely 
adorned  with  gray  moss  and  skeleton  leaves,  and  in  this  case 
showing  an  unusual  preference  for  dandelion  seeds,  with  which 
its  soft  bulk  was  well  felted.  Inasmuch  as  there  were  thousands 
of  the  dandelion  balls  opening  every  sunny  day  this  feat  of  for- 
age was  not  one  of  anticipation  of  a  natural  harvest;  rather  a 
question  of  economy  of  labor  —  a  whole  dandelion  ball  at  one 
compact  pinch. 

Wilson  gives  the  nest  material  of  the  yellow  warbler  as  "  silk- 
weed  floss  and  willow  cotton,"  which  present  a  singular  incongru- 
ity as  to  chronology,  the  willow  cotton  being  a  buoyant  feature 
of  the  May  breeze,  while  the  asclepias  does  not  take  wing  until 
late  August  and  September,  the  silky  seeds  of  the  previous  year 
being  then  of  course  obliterated.  Is  it  possible  that  the  warbler, 
like  the  redstart,  may  anticipate  the  bursting  pod  by  an  occasional 
burglary,  assisted,  perhaps,  by  those  hairy  caterpillars  which  so 


BIRD     CRADLES. 


105 


often  lay  bare  the  interior?     How  else  the  bird  could  procure  the 
material  is  a  mystery. 

The  "cat-tail"  offers   an   inexhaustible  store   of  down  to  the 
later   nest-builders.      Packed   with   incredible   compactness   in   its 
cylindrical  equilibrium,  when  once  ruptured — the  keystone  among 
the  feathered  seeds  once  removed,  as  it  were  —  what  a  revelation! 
The  magician's  inexhaustible  hat  is  not  a  cir- 
cumstance to  it.     Rolling  out  in  fluffy  masses, 
a  very  effervescence  of  down,  which  seems  to 
multiply   to   infinity  even    after  launching  in 
the  air.     Unless  my  estimate  of  bird-wisdom 
is   much   overwrought,  it   rinds    its   way  into 
many  a  warm  nest,  even  though  gleaned  from 
the  last  year's  stalks. 

But  it  is  not  alone  to  the  soft  seeds  of 
plants  that  the  nests  are  indebted  for  their 
downy  lining.     If  the   home  of  the  yellow 
warbler    is    a    chef  cCceuvre 
what  shall  be  said  of  this, 


the  work  of  the  small 
blue-gray  gnatcatcher, 
one  of  the  most  refined 
art  treasures  among  our 
native  nests  ?  It  is  usu- 
ally hung  among  the  twigs 
of  a  tree,  somewhat  like  that 
of  a  vireo,  though  sometimes  placed 
on  a  branch.  The  body  of  the 
nest  is  closely  felted  together  with 
14 


THE    DANDELION    MYSTERY    SOLVED. 


I06  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

the  softest  materials  of  the  forest,  bud  scales,  dried  blossoms,  veg- 
etable downs,  and  the  delicate  cottony  substance  which  envelops 
the  unfolding  fronds  of  fern,  with  flexible  skeletons  of  leaves  as 
an  external  framework.  The  rim  of  the  nest  is  generally  con- 
tracted. But  the  most  marked  feature  of  the  structure  is  its  or- 
namentation ;  the  whole  exterior  being  closely  thatched  with  small, 
brightly  colored,  greenish-gray  lichen. 

The  woolly,  unrolling  fronds  of  many  of  our  ferns  are  a  famil- 
iar feature  of  the  spring  woods,  and  offer  at  this  season,  and 
later,  from  the  mature  stems,  a  tempting  crop  to  a  number  of  our 
more  diminutive  birds,  including  the  various  warblers,  the  black 
and  white  creeper,  and  humming-bird,  etc. 

This  exquisitely  soft,  buff -colored  material,  for  convenience 
called  "fern-cotton,"  however,  is  not  all  from  the  ferns.  A  close 
analysis  with  the  magnifier  discloses  a  diversity  of  elements. 
Some  of  it  has  been  sheared  from  the  mullein.  The  woolly 
bloom  from  young  linden  leaves  and  buds  of  white  and  red  oak 
have  already  been  identified  in  the  substance,  the  stems  of  ever- 
lasting have  furnished  a  generous  share,  and  there  are  doubtless 
elements  from  a  hundred  other  sources  best  known  to  the  birds. 
Some  of  it,  too,  has  already  served  in  the  winter  snuggery  of  the 
horse-chestnut  bud  beneath  the  varnished  scales. 

I  once  observed  a  tiny  bird  gleaning  among  the  opening 
leaves,  now  webbed  and  festooned  with  the  liberated  soft  yellow 
down,  that  most  beautiful  of  all  the  spring's  revelations  of  burst- 
ing buds,  so  aptly  figured  by  Lowell  in  the  provincial  tongue  of 
Hosea  Biglow : 

"The  gray  boss -chestnut's  leetle  hands  unfold 
Softer'n  a  baby's  be  at  three  days  old." 

How  irresistibly  does  this  recall  that  companion  couplet  in  the 
"Pastoral  line"  from  the  same  memorable  paragraph,  so  true  to 
the  spirit  of  the  vernal  season : 

"In  ellum  shrouds  the  flashin'  hang -bird  clings 
An'  for  the  summer  vy'ge  his  hammock  slings." 


BIRD     CRADLES. 


107 


For  the  skilful  nests  of  the  vireos  have  yet  their  matchless 
pattern  in  the  work  of  that  prince  of  weavers,  the  "hang-bird," 
or  Baltimore  oriole,  whose  swinging,  pendulous  nest  is  a  master- 
piece, not  only  of  textile  art,  but  equally  of  constructive  skill, 
whether  from  an  engineering  or  architectural  point  of  view.  What 
sagacious  perception  of  means  and  intelligent  discrimination  in 
their  employment  are  here  disclosed!  The  trite  maxim 

that  "  the  strength  of  a  chain  is  only  that      **$       of  its  weakest 

link  "  would 
seem,  on  a  su- 
perficial glance  at 
the  nest,  to  be  entire- 
ly ignored  by  the  ori- 
ole, the  attachment  of 
the  nest  often  seem- 
ing  to    exhibit    a 
daring   dearth    of 
material    and    in 
singular  contrast 

to  the   elaborate  density  of  the  weaving 
below.     A   closer  examination,  however, 
shows  a  most  sagacious  compensation  in 
the    economy  of    this    apparently    weak 
portion,  for  here   it  will  be   fqund   in  al- 
most every  instance  the  toughest  fibre  in 
the  entire  nest  has  been  concentrated,  in  most 
cases  that  have  come  under  my  observation ; 
and  in  three  specimens  now  before  me,  consist- 
ing of  remnants  of  strings,  fish-line,  strips  of  cloth 
securely  twisted  and  looped  around  the  forked 
or  drooping  twigs,  the  loose  ends  below    be- 
ing intricately  interwoven  among  the  gray 
hempen  fibres  of  which  the  body  of  the 
nest  is  composed,  the  whole  structure 
being    literally    sewed    through    and 
through  with  long  horse -hairs. 


FERN-WOOI.    GLEANERS. 


I08  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

Remembering  Wilson's  investigations  into  the  similarly  com- 
pact nest-fabric  of  the  orchard  oriole,  from  which  he  disentan- 
gled a  strand  of  grass  only  thirteen  inches  long,  but  which  in 
that  distance  was  thirty-four  times  hooked  through  and  returned 
in  the  meshes,  the  relation  of  which  fact  led  an  old  lady  acquaint- 
ance of  his  to  ask  whether  "  it  would  not  be  possible  to  teach  the 
birds  to  darn  stockings,"  I  was  led  to  test  the  darning  skill  of 
the  hang -bird  which  uses  the  horse -hair  in  true  regulation  style. 
With  much  labor  I  succeeded  in  following  a  single  hair  through 
fourteen  passes  from  outside  to  interior  in  the  length  of  about 
ten  inches,  which  I  was  then  quite  willing  to  assume  as  an  aver- 
age as  to  the  total,  which  would  doubtless  have  reached  at  least 
thirty  stitches.  When  this  is  multiplied  by  the  hundreds  of  simi- 
lar sinews  with  which  the  body  of  the  nest  is  compacted  some 
idea  may  be  formed  of  its  strength. 

Two  types  of  the  nest,  both  beautiful  specimens,  are  now  be- 
fore me.  One,  a  true  example  of  the  "hang -nest,"  being  sus- 
pended from  the  tips  of  the  long,  drooping  branches  of  an  elm, 
while  the  other,  more  ample,  is  hung  from  a  horizontal  fork  of  a 
maple.  It  is  larger  at  the  mouth  than  the  first,  but,  like  it,  is  sus- 
pended from  stout  strings,  twisted  round  and  round  the  twigs 
and  spanning  the  fork.  For  a  long  period  the  nature  of  this 
peculiar  gray  hempen  fibre  which  forms  the  bulk  of  the  oriole's 
nest  was  a  puzzle.  And  even  now  that  the  tough  material  has 
been  identified  principally  as  the  dried  strips  of  the  stalks  of 
common  milk-weed,  which  Nuttall  observed  the  bird  to  tear  from 
the  plants  "  and  hackle  into  flax,"  I  am  not  aware  that  the  hint 
of  the  oriole,  as  to  its  evident  utility  as  a  textile  for  the  spinning- 
wheel  or  loom,  has  ever  been  respected.  A  strip  of  this  tough 
dried  bark,  even  when  drawn  firmly  across  the  finger-nail,  sepa- 
rates into  the  finest  of  flax,  almost  reminiscent  of  the  milk-weed 
seed- floss  in  its  white  glossy  sheen. 

The  oriole's  nests  are  not  all  made  in  the  same  mould  nor  of 
the  same  material,  but  generally  reflect  the  resources  of  the  local- 
ity in  which  they  are  built.  There  are  numerous  instances  of 
anomalous  nests,  in  which  the  eager  quest  of  the  bird  has  been 


BIRD     CRADLES.  IO9 

artfully  humored  by  the  housewife  or  the  ornithological  curio 
hunter,  resulting  in  works  of  questionable  art  sophisticated  with 
all  manner  of  contaminations — rags  and  ribbons,  tape  and  lamp- 
wick,  or  perhaps  patriotic  pendants  flying  the  national  colors  of 
red,  white,  and  blue  in  party-colored  zones  and  strips  of  gaudy 
flannel.  In  contrast  to  these  I  cannot  but  revert  with  relief  to 
that  beautiful  fancy  which  Chadwick  has  woven  into  one  of  these 
beautiful  nests,  and  in  which  the  intertwined  golden  and  silvery 
locks  of  childhood  and  old  age  tell  a  pathetic  story. 

In  one  case  at  least  the  hint  of  the  oriole  would  appear  to 
have  been  appreciated,  his  nest  having  first  introduced  to  the 
public  the  utility  of  the  black  flexible  compound  which  is  so 
common  an  ingredient  towards  the  centre  of  our  costly  "  curled- 
hair"  mattresses. 

During  a  recent  Southern  trip  I  noted  one  or  two  of  these 
pendulous  mattresses  of  the  oriole,  their  black  color  giving  little 
hint  to  the  observer  of  the  gray  Southern  moss  of  which  they 
are  really  constructed.  In  the  Long  Island  Historical  Rooms 
there  is  a  specimen  of  one  of  these  Southern  nests,  fully  eighteen 
inches  long,  composed  entirely  of  this  glossy  black  fibre — a  veri- 
table piece  of  hair-cloth  to  all  appearances,  no  single  thread,  I 
believe,  showing  its  familiar  gray  complexion,  the  entire  material 
having  been  presumably  abstracted  from  the  drying-poles  of  the 
"moss  gatherers,"  beneath  whose  arts  the  Southern  moss  is  con- 
verted into  "genuine  curled  hair"  by  the  rotting  and  subsequent 
removal  of  the  gray  covering,  leaving  only  the  black  shiny  core, 
which  is  duly  shipped  and  subsequently  sold  and  "  warranted  "  at 
fifty  cents  a  pound. 

In  strong  contrast  to  the  foregoing  products  of  warp  and 
woof  is  the  humbler  art  of  the  plastic  builders — the  adobe-dwell- 
ers among  our  birds.  Of  such  are  the  robin  —  true  child  of  the 
sod,  with  its  domicile  of  mud  and  coarse  grass  —  and  the  thrushes 
generally,  the  phoebe,  pewee,  and  the  swallows.  Solid  and  sub- 
stantial fair-weather  structures,  they  are  yet  far  inferior  in  the 
scale  of  architectural  intelligence;  for  while  in  the  textile  nests 
even  a  drenching  rain  serves  but  to  amalgamate  the  mass,  the 


no 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


mud-builders  are  often  at  the  mercy 
of  the  storm ;  a  possible  fate  which 
is  not  always  anticipated  in  the  se- 
lection of  a  building  site.     In  the 
••>   case  of   the   swallow  beneath   the 
eaves,  and   the   phcebe    under   the 
bridge,  the   home   is   safe,  but   the 
robin    occasionally  pays    a    heavy 
penalty  for  the  daring  exposure  of 
its  nest,  the  fair  structure  of  the 
\sunshine  literally  melting  away 


in  the  rain.      During  the  past  wet  sea- 
son two  such  mishaps  occurred  upon 
my  lawn,  the  nests  having  disintegrated, 
and  fallen  in  shapeless  masses,  scatter- 
ing the  egg  contents  upon  the  ground. 
Recently  I  chanced  upon  another 
reckless  nest,  that  of  the  yellow-billed 
cuckoo,  or  rain-crow,  in  the  top  of 
an  apple-tree — if,  indeed,  the  loose 
pile  of  sticks  could  be  dignified  by 
the  name  of  nest  at  all,  being  more 
suggestive  of  a  gridiron,  through  which 
the  outlines  of  the  head   and  the   long 
projecting  tail  of  the  bird  were  distinctly 
perceptible  against  the  sky.     As   I  climbed 


BIRD     CRADLES.  m 

the  tree  the  bird  flew  to  the  neighboring  branches,  uttering  an 
occasional  hoarse  croak  in  its  familiar  tone,  obedient,  as  it  were, 
to  a  periodic  pumping  stroke  of  the  long  tail.  I  found  the  nest 
occupied  by  a  single  fledgling,  and  was  moved  to  congratulate 
the  remnant  for  having  managed  to  reach  his  pin-feather  days 
without  tumbling  out  of  bed,  which  I  fancied  must  have  been 
the  fate  of  his  presumably  former  bedfellows,  for  the  edge  of 
the  open  pile  of  sticks  was  lower  than  the  centre  whereon  he 
rested. 

Examples  of  this  sort  of  nest-building  are  happily  not  com- 
mon, and  in  the  case  of  this  bird,  a  near  congener  to  the  Euro- 
pean cuckoo,  though  entirely  without  its  parasitic  habits,  it  would 
seem  to  have  a  somewhat  parallel  sin  of  shiftlessness.  In  all  the 
four  nests  of  this  bird  which  I  have  found,  this  contributory  neg- 
ligence towards  the  destruction  of  its  offspring  has  been  manifest. 
My  fancy  has  sometimes  suggested  the  query  whether  this  may 
not  be  an  example  of  the  process  of  evolution  from  a  lower  para- 
sitical to  a  higher  state,  the  dawning  intelligence  in  the  art  of 
nest-building. 

The  turtle-dove  is  accused  of  a  like  carelessness  in  the  con- 
struction of  its  nest.  The  nighthawk  and  the  whippoorwill, 
though  building  no  nest  at  all,  are  more  considerate  of  their 
babes,  at  least  assuring  them  against  the  fate  of  the  cuckoo's 
brood  by  nesting  on  the  ground. 

Last  summer  I  was  favored  with  a  rare  neighbor  in  the  shape 
of  a  red-headed  wroodpecker,  not  a  common  visitant  in  Connecti- 
cut, at  least  in  the  section  familiar  to  me.  Remembering  that 
this  was  the  bird  whose  flashing  plumage  and  flaming  scarlet 
head  kindled  the  ornithological  fervor  of  Wilson,  which  led  to  his 
subsequent  fame,  my  visitor  came  doubly  recommended.  The 
nest  was  excavated  on  the  underside  of  a  large  branch  of  an 
apple-tree  near  the  house;  and  even  though  naturally  safe  from 
observation,  the  bird  seemed  little  desirous  of  concealment,  pirou- 
etting about  the  elm  trunk  close  by  the  window  and  speeding 
like  a  rocket  directly  to  its  nest. 

At   first   thought  the  peculiar  conditions   of  the  woodpecker's 


112  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

nest  would  appear  to  offer  advantages  of  safety  above  those  of 
other  birds,  as  in  truth  it  does,  being  at  least  secure  against  the 
hawks  and  owls  and  foxes.  Yet  it  is  by  no  means  invulner- 
able. The  black  snake  has  a  well-known  fancy  for  young  wood- 
peckers, and  has  often  been  surprised  within  the  burrow,  to  the 
horror  of  the  small  boy  oologist,  perhaps,  who  is  thinking  only  of 
the  rare  white  eggs  as  he  feels  the  depths  of  the  hollow.  The 
birds  are  also  an  easy  prey  to  the  murderous  red  squirrel,  one 
of  the  archenemies  of  our  nesting  birds.  Last  year  two  of  my 
woodpecker  fledglings  fell  his  victims,  and  only  a  few  weeks  since 
a  whole  family  of  flickers,  which  built  in  a  large  neighboring 
maple,  were  wellnigh  exterminated  by  the  same  brigand.  Two 
fully  pinioned  fledglings  were  found  dead  on  the  ground  beneath 
the  hole,  each  with  an  ugly  gash  at  the  throat,  and  one  of  which 
the  squirrel  was  observed  dragging  by  the  head,  while  endeavor- 
ing to  ascend  the  trunk  —  treating  birds  like  pine-cones — drop- 
ping his  cone  first  to  enjoy  it  at  his  leisure.  But  one  survivor 
of  the  brood  was  seen  later,  and  this  doubtless  followed  the  fate 
of  the  others.  The  woodpeckers,  in  addition  to  serving  their 
own  ends,  are  also  pioneers  for  a  number  of  smaller  fry  among 
the  birds,  the  deserted  tunnels  being  in  great  demand  for  apart- 
ments, and  often  a  prize  won  only  by  supreme  strategy  or  victory 
among  the  bluebirds,  nuthatches,  creepers,  wrens,  and  chickadees, 
though  the  last  has  been  known  to  excavate  its  own  domicile. 
Indeed,  to  the  wren  a  hole  of  any  kind  possesses  great  attrac- 
tions, "  it  will  build  in  anything  that  has  an  accessible  cavity, 
from  an  old  boot  to  a  bomb-shell,"  says  Burroughs.  But  whether 
it  be  a  palatial  tin  box,  a  post -hole,  a  tin  oil -can,  auger -hole, 
pump-spout,  pocket  of  an  old  coat,  wheel -hub,  or  tomato-can,  the 
interior  is  always  brought  to  the  same  level  of  luxury  in  its  copi- 
ous feather,  bed. 

I  remember  once,  in  the  days  of  my  early  ornithological  fer- 
vor, discovering  a  wren's  nest  in  a  shallow  knot-hole  of  an  old 
apple-tree.  The  bird  scolded  and  sputtered  at  the  entrance  like 
a  typical  setting  hen,  and  even  suffered  herself  to  be  poked  from 
the  hole ;  and  if  there  be  those  who  think  that  birds  cannot  swear, 


BIRD     CRADLES. 


they  should  have  witnessed  the  subsequent  vocal  exercises.  The 
feather-bed  disclosed  twelve  pinkish  eggs  by  actual  count,  for  I 
remember  in  humiliation  my  scandalous  pride  at  having  "  eleven 
duplicates  for  trade." 

There  are  a  number  of  especially  well-known  favorites  among 
the  nests  which  should  be  mentioned,  either  one  of  which  is  a 
sufficient  quest  for  a  summer's  walk. 

There  is  the  grass  hammock 
of  the  indigo-bird,  so  artfully 
swung  between    two    or 
three  upright  branches 
of  weed ;  the  skilfully 
woven   basket  of   the         J| 
red-wing    blackbird 
in   the   bog,  either      | 
meshed   within  its 
tussock,  twisted  into 
the  button-bush,  or 
suspended  among  the 
reeds.     Then    there   are 
the   quaint  covered    nests 
of    the    oven-bird    at    the 
edge    of   the    brook,  the    beehive    of    the 
marsh-wren    among    the    sedges,  or    the 
Maryland  yellow-throat  in  the  swamp,  and 
the  rare  snuggeries  of  the  golden-crested 
wren  and  blue,  yellow-backed  warbler — the 
former    a   tiny    hermitage,   built    on    the 

branch  of  an  evergreen,  composed  of  moss  and  lichen,  with  only 
a  small  hole  left  for  entrance,  and  the  interior  lined  with  down ; 
the  latter  a  dainty  den,  constructed,  according  to  Samuels,  of  the 
"  long  gray  Spanish  moss  (lichen  ?)  so  plentiful  in  the  States  of 
Maine,  New  Hampshire,  and  Vermont.  The  long  hairs  of  the 
moss  are  woven  and  twined  together  in  a  large  mass,  on  one 
side  of  which  is  the  entrance  to  the  n£st — a  mere  hole  in  the 
moss.  The  lining  is  nothing  but  the  same  material,  only  of  finer 


";,  V 

••'.'Mi 


TO   FEATHER   THE   NEST, 


II4  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

quality."  I  have  seen  but  two  specimens  of  this  nest — one  com- 
posed entirely  of  the  long  gray  lichen  which  beards  the  patri- 
archal trees  of  our  Northern  forests,  and  the  other  of  a  shorter 
species  found  on  fences  and  rocks. 

The  nest  of  the  blue -winged  yellow  warbler  is  really  worth 
a  search.  Few  of  our  ornithologists  have  found  it.  According 
to  Wilson,  it  is  usually  placed  in  a  bunch  or  tussock  of  long 
grass,  and  is  in  the  form  of  an  inverted  cone  or  funnel,  the  bot- 
tom thickly  bedded  with  dry  beech -leaves,  the  sides  formed  of 
the  dry  bark  of  strong  weeds,  lined  with  fine  dry  grass.  These 
materials  are  not  placed  in  the  usual  manner,  circularly,  but  shelv- 
ing downward  on  all  sides  from  the  top,  the  mouth  being  wide, 
the  bottom  very  narrow  and  filled  with  leaves. 

Nor  must  I  forget  to  mention  that  curious  and  anomalous 
three,  four,  and  once,  I  believe,  five- storied  nest  which  has  occa- 
sionally rewarded  the  search  of  the  persevering  oologist — a  novel 
piece  of  architectural  art — a  monument,  as  it  were,  to  the  intelli- 
gence and  indefatigable  pluck  of  the  yellow  warbler  in  overtop- 
ping the  wit  of  the  parasitic  cow- bird,  each  story  of  the  curious 
domicile  being  erected  over  the  insinuated  portentous  egg,  and 
sufficiently  separated  therefrom  to  insure  against  its  incubation, 
when  the  builder  shall  at  last  have  exhausted  her  adversary's  re- 
sources and  nestled  in  peace  on  the  summit  of  her  lofty  pile,  an 
apt  if  facetious  embodiment  of  "  Patience  on  a  monument." 

We  have  already  alluded  in  superlative  terms  to  the  nest  of 
the  blue-gray  gnatcatcher,  but  even  that  artistic  production  must 
yield  to  its  easy  rival  and  model  of  the  humming-bird,  in  truth 
the  prize  among  all  our  nests.  Well  does  the  ruby-throat  deserve 
the  medal  which  he  wears  upon  his  breast.  From  picture  or 
cabinet  specimens  this  beautiful  mimetic  structure  saddled  on  its 
branch  is  familiar  to  most  of  my  readers,  few  of  whom,  I  am 
sure,  will  ever  have  disclosed  it  in  its  haunts,  even  though  the 
eye  may  have  rested  on  it  a  dozen  times.  The  construction  of 
this  nest,  barely  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter,  is  well  described 
by  Wilson :  "  The  outward  coat  is  formed  of  small  pieces  of  bluish- 
gray  lichen,  that  vegetates  on  old  trees  and  fences,  thickly  glued 


BIRD     CRADLES.  Irr 

on  with  the  saliva  of  the  bird,  giving  firmness  and  consistency 
to  the  whole  as  well  as  keeping  out  moisture.  Within  this  are 
thick  matted  layers  of  the  fine  wings  of  certain  flying  seeds, 
closely  laid  together;  and  lastly  the  downy  substance  from  the 
great  mullein  and  from  the  stalks  of  fern  lines  the  whole.  The 
base  of  the  nest  is  continued  around  the  branch,  to  which  it 
closely  adheres ;  and  when  viewed  from  below  appears  a  mere 
mossy  knot  or  accidental  protuberance." 

I  have  found  but  two  in  my  lifetime,  but  am  confident  that  a 
systematic  search  among  the  orchards  in  the  glittering  trail  of 
the  bird  as  he  leaves  the  trumpet  blossoms  would  reveal  one  or 
two  more.  For  there  is  a  strange  inconsistency  in  the  bird, 
which,  in  spite  of  its  secretive  art  work,  does  not  hesitate  to  re- 
veal it  by  her  telltale  actions,  hovering  about  an  intruder's  head 
like  a  sphinx- moth  in  the  twilight,  and,  far  from  decoying  one's 
attention  away  from  her  treasure,  like  other  birds,  deliberately 
settling  herself  thereon  in  preference  to  alighting  elsewhere — a 
conscious  jewel  that  would  seem  to  know  its  most  appropriate 
setting. 

The  United  States  is  favored  with  but  a  dozen  species  of  the 
humming-bird,  only  one  of  which  is  found  east  of  the  plains. 
But  what  glints  and  gleams  and  scintillations  and  spangles  among 
the  flowery  tropics!  where  the  hundreds  of  species  of  these  sun- 
gems  sport  among  their  suggestive  legion  of  companion  orchids, 
each  feathery  atom  with  its  especial  whim  of  nest,  here  suspended 
among  slender  grasses,  there  hung  upon  a  tendril  or  poised  upon 
a  leaf,  or  perhaps  glued  flat  upon  its  swinging,  drooping  tip.  But 
there  is  a  choice  even  among  diamonds,  and  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  even  the  famed  tropics  afford  a  more  unique  example  of 
artistic  refinement  than  this  of  our  native  Western  humming-bird, 
described  by  Dr.  Brewer,  a  species  only  recently  discovered  by 
Mr.  Allen,  whose  name  it  bears. 

"  This  nest  is  of  a  delicate  cup-shape,  and  is  made  of  the  most 
slender  branches  of  the  hypnum  mosses,  each  stem  bound  to  the 
other  and  all  firmly  tied  into  one  compact  and  perfect  whole  by 
interweavings  of  silky  webs  of  spiders.  '  Within  it  is  finely  and 


n6 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 


softly  lined  with  silky  vegetable  down.  Even  in  the  drawer  of  a 
cabinet,  without  its  living  natural  framework,  it  is  a  perfect  little 
gem  in  beauty.  What,  then,  must  it  have  been  in  its  original 
position,  with  the  graceful,  waving  leaf  of  the  maiden-hair  fern  for 
its  appropriate  and  natural  setting.  It  was  fastened  to  the  fern 
not  two  feet  above  the  ground,  and  to  this  frail  support  it  was 
secured  by  threads  of  spider-webs  so  slender  as  to  be  hardly 
visible." 

We  know  not  what  other  nest-treasures  yet  await  us  in  the 
woods.  There  are  many  rare  finds  yet  in  store  for  the  ornithol- 
ogist in  the  long  list  of  bird-species,  well  known  by  their  skins, 
and  even  by  their  songs,  but  whose  nidification  is  wrapped  in 
mystery — dozens  of  the  warblers,  sparrows,  flycatchers,  and  vireos, 
and  others  yet  awaiting  their  true  historian. 


"  Man  cannot  afford  to  be  a  naturalist,  to  look  at  Nature  directly, 
but  only  n:itb  tbe  side  of  bis  eye.  He  must  look  tbrougb  and  beyond 
btr.  To  look  at  ber  is  as  fatal  as  to  look  at  the  bead  of  Medusa — // 
turns  tbe  man  of  Science  to  stone." 

THOREAL. 


PREHISTORIC 
BOTANISTS 


A  MOXG  my  earliest  memories  associ- 
/~~\    ated  with  nature,  and  one  that  will 
always    vividly    linger,   is    that    thrilling 
spectacle  of  a  winter  butterfly  hovering  about 
the  farm-yard  of  my  Xew  England  home.     It 
was  the  middle  of  January,  one  of  those  balmy 
days  of  respite  from  the  north  wind,  when  the 
careful    alder    catkins    are    beguiled,   and   the 
puss- willow's   paws   first  peep  from  beneath 
their   snuggeries.      The  odors    of  wet   twigs 
and  sweet  sap  and   soggy  snow,  tinctured  with 
the  wine   of  quickened   loam,  saturated   the   air. 
The  patches  of  thawing  drifts  lay  like  mimic  gla- 
ciers  amid  their   melting  areas  on   the   barn    and 


120  STARLIGHT  AND    SUNSHINE. 

barrack  roofs,  slowly  stealing  down  the  shingle  or  hovering  in 
impending  avalanche  at  the  dripping  eaves.  High  on  the  ridge- 
pole of  the  barn  my  butterfly  first  disclosed  itself,  now  flutter- 
ing against  the  sky,  now  alighting  with  expanded,  gently  moving 
wings,  sipping  at  the  steamy  edge  of  the  snow,  or  sailing  across 
its  white  field.  How  I  sighed  to  bag  the  prize !  What  yearn- 
ings and  heart-throbs,  wondrous  stratagems  of  allurement,  and 
superhuman  schemes  of  capture !  what  hopes  and  fears  animated 
my  demoralized  being  as  I  watched  the  sportive  antics  of  the 
sprite,  as  in  turn  it  circled  close  to  the  eaves  among  the  swallow- 
nests  or  disappeared  behind  the  peak  or  gable !  What  a  marvel- 
lous account  of  this  strange  visitor  could  I  have  given  had  not 
prosaic  fortune  at  last  permitted  its  identification ! 

An  event  like  this  is  a  perpetual  spring  to  the  spirit.  How 
often  through  the  years  have  I  drank  therefrom  and  been  re- 
freshed !  But  in  my  present  mood  the  incident  recurs  with  a  new 
significance.  That  enrapturing  butterfly  happily  is  still  free,  but 
a  similar  one  since  captured  proved  to  be  a  species  familiar  in  my 
cabinet  —  the  antiopa,  the  same  that  fluttered  among  the  winter 
mosses  of  the  "  Old  Manse  "  of  Hawthorne.  "  Rare  butterflies," 
he  writes,  "came  before  the  snow  was  off,  flaunting  in  the  chill 
breeze  and  looking  forlorn  and  all  astray,  in  spite  of  all  the  mag- 
nificence of  their  dark  velvet  cloaks  with  golden  borders."  In 
this  "  lone  butterfly "  of  the  winter  sun,  as  Wilson  mistakenly 
calls  it,  we  have  a  representative  of  a  small  family  of  beautiful 
insects  for  which  the  cold  has  no  terrors ;  for  it  is  not  true,  as 
the  poet  of  "  the  butterfly  "  would  have  us  believe,  that 


"each  gay  little  rover 
Shrinks  from  the  breath  of  the  first  autumn  day"; 


nor,  as  Shakespeare  implied  in  the  lines — 


"  Men,  like  butterflies, 
Show  not  their  mealy  wings  but  to  the  summer 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  I2i 

for  though  upon  the  approach  of  the  blighting  frosts  one  by  one 
"  the  painted  meadow  tribes "  have  succumbed  and  fallen,  the 
antiopa  has  scarcely  lost  a  feather  from  its  wing  or  a  buoyant 
plume  from  its  sunny  spirit. 

In  the  bare  woods  of  November  he  sails  across  your  path,  or 
challenges  your  curious  zeal  as  he  merges  into  rock  or  tree,  extin- 
guished amid  his  own  folded  wings.  Upon  the  pungent  pile  of 
pomace  at  the  cider -mill  he  suns  himself  in  questionable  content 
as  his  wings 

"  Expand  and  shut  in  silent  ecstasy," 

joined  by  a  bibulous,  convivial  company,  not  only  painted  like 
himself,  but  dressed  in  gayer  plumage,  though  all  close  akin.  The 
Milbert's  butterfly  is  here,  also  the  Atlanta,  the  Comma,  perhaps 
the  White  J,  and  the  Progne  —  for  this  is  a  family  party,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  a  seemingly  common  inherited  proclivity.  Who  has 
not  seen  that  deep  orange -red  sylph  with  jagged,  spotted  wings, 
like  a  bright,  lingering  leaf  in  an  autumn  eddy,  circling  about 
one's  progress  through  the  denuded  woods,  tempting  one's  heed- 
less foot  in  the  orchard  path,  or  alighting  on  the  fence,  head 
downward,  with  alert  wings  out- spread? 

The  winnowing  process  of  the  cold  has  left  but  these  few  con- 
spicuous remnants,  all  members  of  the  same  interesting  group,  the 
Angle -wings,  boreal  butterflies,  the  hardy  Alpine  species  of  our 
Lepidoptera,  if  I  may  so  speak,  for  these  butterflies  are  Alpine 
in  a  larger  sense  than  mere  hardihood.  While  most  of  our  com- 
mon kinds  are  peculiar  to  our  continent,  these  late  survivors  of 
the  winter,  hibernating  in  crevices  and  crannies  during  the  cold- 
est periods,  and  taking  the  slightest  hint  of  genial  moderation 
to  lend  their  animated  being  to  the  dormant  landscape,  are  in 
truth  cosmopolitan  types;  the  Painted  Lady  (and  Comma?)  is 
found  in  northern  Europe;  the  Atlanta  is  common  in  Europe, 
Africa,  and  the  East  Indies;  while  the  antiopa,  the  prominent 
member  of  the  group,  is  an  almost  world -wide  denizen — at  home 
in  arctic  snows,  omnipresent  from  Alaska  to  Brazil,  and  from 
Lapland  to  northern  Africa. 

16 


I22  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

It  was  doubtless  the  spell  of  one  of  these  butterflies  that  crys- 
tallized the  arctic  simile  of  Wordsworth: 

"I've  watched  you  now  a  full  half-hour 
Self -poised  upon  that  yellow  flower; 
And,  little  butterfly,  indeed 
I  know  not  if  you  sleep  or  feed. 
How  motionless  ! — not  frozen  seas 
More  motionless  " ; 


and  quickened  the  insight  of  Joachim  Miller: 

"Gold -barred  butterflies,  to  and  fro 
And  over  the  water -side  wandered  and  wove, 
As  heedless  and  idle  as  clouds  that  rove 
And  drift  by  the  peaks  of  perpetual  snow"; 

for  are  these  Alpine  similes  not  truly  prophesied  in  the  nether 
mirror  of  these  folded  wings,  with  their  bordering  aiguilles,  their 
verdant  zone  beneath  their  peaked  borders,  their  merging  veins 
of  mimic  glacial  streams  and  isolated  patch  of  silver,  like  the 
tiny  lingering  remnant  of  an  avalanche  in  a  vast  field  of  striate 
granite?  All  these  wondrous  hieroglyphs  are  here  apparent  to 
the  inward  eye,  though  only  revealed  to  mine,  as  I  have  said,  as 
though  in  a  mirror,  from  this  storied  wing  of  a  butterfly,  the 
"  Comma,"  captured  by  my  own  hand  on  the  ice  midway  in  the 
Mer  de  Glace  of  Switzerland.  "  Every  object  rightly  seen  un- 
locks a  new  faculty  of  soul,"  says  Emerson;  and  while  I  would 
make  no  claim,  even  as  the  humblest  interpreter  of  the  infinite 
design  throughout  nature — where,  as  Lubbock  believes,  from  the 
irresistible  force  of  a  long  array  of  facts,  "  not  a  hair  or  line  or 
a  spot  of  color  is  without  a  reason,  or  has  not  a  purpose  or  a 
meaning,"  every  touch  of  the  Infinite  Creator  the  symbol  of  a 
thought  and  purpose  —  I  may  at  least  offer  the  tribute  of  a  beau- 
tiful simile  which  came,  not  as  a  guess  at  truth,  but  as  a  swift 
revelation  from  the  painted  wing  which  I  had  seen  before  a  hun- 
dred times,  a  mere  gray  specimen  in  my  scientific  cabinet.  Shall 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  ^3 

I  ever  again  look  upon  the  folded  wings  of  the  Progne  or  Faun  us 
butterfly  without  a  consciousness  that  I  now  see  "  through  and 
beyond"  where  before  I  had  only  looked  upon  its  scales? 

Not  the  least  among  the  pleasant  episodes  of  a  recent  Euro- 
pean trip  was  the  continual  recurrence  of  this  familiar  compan- 
ion, the  antiopa.  In  the  lanes  of  Cheshire  —  though  I  learn  the 
insect  is  here  a  rare  visitor — I  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  him ; 
among  the  dikes  of  Holland  I  saw  him,  and  even  among  the 
mountain  crags  of  Switzerland,  hovering  high  aloft  in  buoyant 
flight  above  the  sea  of  ice,  as  though  with  heart  set  upon  the 
cloud -veiled  pinnacle.  How  irresistibly,  then,  do  I  return  to  my 
introductory  picture  of  the  snow  upon  the  shingles  !  What  remi- 
niscent innate  dreams  of  eons  past  were  compassed  in  the  flight 
of  that  brown  sylph  above  the  mimic  glacial  fields  upon  the  roof! 
— for  the  antiopa  of  to-day  but  links  the  present  with  the  prime- 
val past.  Then,  as  now,  our  Angle-wings  revelled  in  the  boreal 
clime,  hibernating  in  rocky  fissures,  and  sipping  the  sweets  from 
the  fringe  of  blossoms  at  the  skirts  of  the  glacial  fields,  its  pres- 
ent welcome  for  the  cold  being  but  an  inheritance  from  its  sturdy 
ancestry. 

It  has  long  been  my  intention  to  gather  together  my  obser- 
vations touching  a  certain  phase  of  insect  life  of  singular  inter- 
est, and  one  not  sufficiently  dwelt  upon,  it  seems  to  me,  in  the 
literature  of  natural  history.  I  refer  to  the  strange  innate  bo- 
tanical instinct  possessed  by  a  large  number  of  insects,  notably 
of  the  lepidopterous  tribe,  which,  with  the  exception  of  the  bees, 
are  most  intimately  associated  with  the  floral  kingdom.  For  the 
"  idle  butterfly  "  of  the  poet — 

"  The  sportive  rover  of  the  meadows, 
Kissing  all  buds  that  are  pretty  and  sweet," 

the  universal  type  of  dolce  far  niente — under  the  vguide  of  en- 
lightened science  now  rebukes  the  heedless  estimate  of  the  past, 
proving  its  buoyant  rounds  to  have  been  directed  by  a  divine 
purpose,  concerned  in  the  perpetuation  of  many  of  the  very 


I24  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

flowers  which  through  the  centuries  had  served  the  bard  merely 
as  a  pretty  background  to  its  quivering  poise.  As  the  lover  and 
companion  of  flowers,  then,  the  butterfly  is  thus  a  botanist  par 
excellence,  and  as  an  ally  of  the  Infinite,  a  botanist  divine.  But 
it  is  not  with  either  of  these  functions,  so  ably  dwelt  upon  by 
more  learned  pens  than  mine,  that  I  am  at  present  concerned. 
In  another  more  literal  and  prosaic,  perhaps,  but  equally  marvel- 
lous resource  — the  scientific  classification  of  species — the  butter- 
fly has  proven  a  prehistoric  antecedent  to  the  fathers  of  botany, 
and  an  oracle  not  sufficiently  regarded  in  later  times. 

Botanical  history  is  full  of  learned  dissensions  among  the 
wise  heads  upon  the  botanical  affinities  of  this  or  that  non-com- 
mittal plant,  whether  it  should  be  placed  here  or  there  among  the 
natural  orders.  How  many  a  martyr  blossom  has  served  but  as  a 
shuttlecock  in  the  learned  melee,  tossed  back  and  forth  for  years 
ere  it  found  its  final  rest  among  its  congenial  kindred,  while  a 
mere  appeal  to  the  butterfly  might  long  ago  have  solved  the 
problem  and  brought  immediate  peace. 

Unimaginable  ages  before  Linnaeus,  our  prehistoric  botanist 
hovered  around  the  blossoming  moraines,  singling  out  the  affini- 
ties of  nettle  and  nettle,  saxifrage  and  saxifrage,  and  linked  them 
all  in  its  flight.  What  are  my  authorities,  is  it  asked  ?  Fancy 
and  inference — inference  tested  by  analogy,  analogy  reinforced  by 
present  facts,  and,  last,  the  absolute  seal  of  authority  everywhere 
imprinted  in  the  great  book  of  stone — the  witness  of  the  fossil 
wing  and  its  companion  tribes  of  extinct  vegetation. 

In  the  delicate  intaglios  of  the  shale  and  bibliolite,  in  the 
bead  of  amber  we  may  find  a  full  text  and  epitome : 

"  I  saw  a  flie  within  a  beade 
Of  amber  cleanly  buried ; 
The  urne  was  little,  but  the  room 
More  rich  than  Cleopatra's  tombe." 

In   the    heart   of  this    limpid  shrine   are    entombed   thousands  of 
species   now   extinct,  while    even    the  solid    rock   has  divulged   a 


number  of  in- 
taglios and  ri- 
lievos  so  perfect 
as    to    reveal    their 
precise    charac- 
ters  and  permit       J| 
their  easy  classifi- 
cation. 

A  glance  at 
the   geological    se-  W 


126  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

quence  of  fossil  insects  with  their  companions  of  vegetation  re- 
veals many  interesting  and  cumulative  facts.  In  the  Carbonifer- 
ous period,  as  pictured  in  the  coal,  we  find  vegetation  consisting 
entirely  of  ferns,  club-mosses,  and  "  horse-tail,"  in  luxuriant  growth, 
as  well  as  the  most  primitive  pines— the  lowest  in  organization 
among  the  true  flowering  plants.  The  companion  insects  were 
of  the  dragon-fly,  locust,  and  beetle  tribes.  Inasmuch  as  these 
are  insects  that  rarely  frequent  flowers,  we  find  that  the  com- 
panion plants  are  all  flowerless  genera,  that  require  no  insect  aid 
for  perpetuation,  or  of  trees  whose  existing  counterparts — white 
pine  and  spruce,  etc.  —  even  to-day  ignore  the  existence  of  in- 
sects, and  depend  wholly  upon  the  wind  in  the  scattering  of  their 
pollen  and  consequent  perpetuation. 

The  Reptilian  age,  which  followed  after  the  annihilation  of  all 
preceding  species,  we  find  ushered  in  by  a  luxuriant  growth  of 
seemingly  freshly  created  types  of  the  previous  mentioned  tribe 
of  plants,  followed  in  the  Triassic,  Jurassic,  and  Cretaceous  pe- 
riods by  the  successive  multiplication  of  Palms  and  Cycads — 
wind  fertilized  plants  again — succeeded  at  last  by  a  countless 
host  of  blossoming  trees  and  flowery  fragrant  vegetation:  oaks 
and  willows,  beech,  alder,  tulip-tree  and  blossoming  herbs  and 
shrubs,  accompanied  by  a  myrmidon  representation  of  all  the 
tribes  of  insects  now  known.  In  the  light  of  modern  scientific 
revelation  who  shall  question  the  analogy  or  significance  of  this 
simultaneous  creation,  or  that  the  prehistoric  bee  and  butterfly 
were  called  into  being  obedient  to  the  same  design  which  we  see 
them  now  fulfilling  among  the  fragrant  blossoms  of  our  mead- 
ows?—  for  fragrance  had  not  been  wasted  on  the  desert  air  of 
those  earlier  mesozoic  times. 

"Geologists  inform  us,"  says  Hugh  Macmillan,  "that  all  the 
eras  of  the  earth's  history  previous  to  the  upper  miocene  were 
destitute  of  perfumes.  It  is  only  when  we  come  to  the  periods 
immediately  antecedent  to  the  human  that  we  meet  with  an  odor- 
iferous flora."  An  era  of  gladness  in  anticipation  of  the  birth  of 
man. 

In  further  reinforcement  bearing  upon  the  functions  and  an 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  I2y 

tiquity  of  my  botanists,  Macmillan  records  having  seen  several 
butterflies  of  the  beautiful  Apollo  species  at  home  eight  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea.  Another  traveller  observed  a  butterfly  hover- 
ing high  above  him  while  on  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc.  I  my- 
self saw  several  butterflies  revelling  among  Alpine  flowers  at  an 
elevation  of  six  thousand  feet,  to  say  nothing  of  the  occasional 
individuals  which  I  observed  floating  far  above  me  about  the 
crags.  Willis  chronicles  the  discovery  of  numerous  specimens  in 
glacial  ice  fourteen  thousand  feet  in  altitude.  Moreover,  on  the 
summit  of  Flegere,  six  thousand  feet,  I  found  a  large  moth  which 
had  just  emerged  from  its  chrysalis,  affording  conclusive  proof 
that  its  entire  existence  in  the  caterpillar  state  had  been  spent  in 
this  Alpen  clime. 

That  was  rather  a  hap-hazard  poet,  therefore,  who  sang  of  his 
delight  to  breathe  the  "iced  air  of  the  mountain-top" — 

"Where  the  birds  dare  not  build,  nor  insect's  wing 
Flit  o'er  the  herbless  granite." 

Indeed,  these  Alpen  fastnesses  have  a  beautiful  sturdy  flora  and 
fauna  of  their  own,  and  are  replete  with  life.  The  Rhododendron 
Nivale  defies  the  elements  upon  its  storm-beaten  stronghold  sev- 
enteen thousand  feet  in  altitude,  two  thousand  feet  higher  than 
the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  with  its  scarcely  less  doughty 
companion,  the  "  least  willow,"  are  among  the  last  plants  with 
woody  stems  which  one  will  meet  in  the  ascent  of  the  Alpen 
summits. 

In  the  last  named  little  shrub  alone  is  furnished  a  fitting  in- 
dorsement to  the  claim  of  antiquity  suggested  by  my  title,  and  a 
complete  refutation  also  of  the  common  belief  concerning  the  ab- 
sence of  insect  life  on  the  loftiest  Alpen  summits,  as  this  little 
omnipresent  herbaceous  willow,  barely  three  inches  high,  often  in- 
deed not  more  than  an  inch,  still,  with  its  ambitious  show  of  honey- 
baited  blossoms,  is  absolutely  dependent  upon  insect  visits  for  its 
perpetuation,  the  pollen-bearing  flowers, being  on  separate  plants 
from  those  which  produce  the  seed.  Muller  observed  a  small 


128  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

moth  acting  as  sponsor  to  these  hardy  blossoms.  Need  we  doubt 
that  the  ancestry  of  these  tiny  flowers  saw  the  light  obedient  to 
the  same  divine  plan  disclosed  in  the  blossom  of  to  day,  or  that 
the  mission  of  their  companion  honey -sippers  was  ever  else  than 
at  present  ? 

Is  not  the  same  conclusion  equally  irresistible  with  regard  to 
the  other  strange,  present  functions  of  the  butterfly,  which  form 
the  subject  of  this  paper  and  which  I  now  illustrate — a  function 
which  has  presumably  deteriorated  rather  than  otherwise  through 
the  ages. 

Deep  in  the  damp  woods  of  late  summer  we  shall  often  find  a 
constant  presence  flitting  above  the  succulent  herbage,  alighting 
now  here  now  there,  its  bright  orange  wings  flashing  in  the  sun- 
beams, or  gently  fanning  its  own  shadow  as  it  rests  upon  some 
tempting  leaf  or  sprig.  Observe  its  rounds  carefully.  Here  is  a 
thick  undergrowth  of  spikenard,  ferns,  bedstraw,  colt'sfoot,  rue, 
bidens,  ampelopsis,  aster,  wood- nettle,  horse-balm,  sunflower,  and 
an  attendant  host  of  plants.  Our  butterfly  is  now  sunning  its 
damask  feathers  on  the  topmost  leaf  of  yonder  wood-nettle,  now 
creeping  around  its  edge,  and  revealed  only  by  the  translucent 
shadow  responding  to  the  gentle  fanning  motion  of  the  wings. 
In  another  moment  we  catch  the  fiery  gleam  in  a  sunbeam  as 
the  sylph  again  soars  above  the  herbage  to  settle  among  the  tall 
sunny  leaves  beyond;  these  also  are  nettles.  Now  it  floats  above 
our  heads  and  alights  upon  the  pale  green  plant  at  our  elbow; 
and  what  is  this  ?  It  is  a  wood-nettle.  And  thus  it  flits  by  the 
hour,  draping  the  underwood  in  ethereal  festoons  from  every  net- 
tle spray  among  the  copse. 

A  closer  scrutiny  of  these  plants  will  throw  a  little  light  upon 
this  discriminating  flight.  The  leaves  are  seen  to  be  partially 
devoured,  and  an  occasional  one  appears  to  droop  with  an  un- 
natural attitude,  a  position  readily  explained  when  we  discover 
the  angular  pitch  caused  by  the  severing  of  the  three  promi- 
nent veins  close  to  the  stem,  the  edges  of  the  leaf  being  also 
drawn  together  below.  Upon  plucking  one  of  these  leaves,  and 
looking  beneath,  we  discover  the  curious  recluse,  at  once  explaining 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS. 


129 


the  artful  tented  leaf  and  the  presence  of  the  butterfly, 
the  gray  spotted  and  spiny  caterpillar  of  the  Comma 
Angle-wing. 

To  be  sure,  it  may  be   said  that  the  nettle   is  not 
a  particularly  difficult  plant  to  distinguish.     Indeed,  old 
Culpeper,  the  herbalist,  assures  us  of 
the  fact  that  "  it  may  be  found  even 
in  the   darkest   night  by  simply  feel- 
ing for  it."     But  such  hap-hazard  bot- 
any is  not  the  necessary  resource  of 
our  butterfly.    The  discrimination 
of  a  nettle,  botanically  consid- 
ered, requires  a  much  deeper 
insight.    How  is  this  insight 
possessed  by  the   Comma? 
Let  us  see.    Yonder  on  the 
stone   wall    a   clambering 
hop-vine  would  seem 
to  afford  a  tempting 
sporting -ground    for 
a  small  brood  of  red 
butterflies.      On    nearer 
approach  they  prove  to 
'    ^      be  the  Comma  joined 
by  a  few  near  relatives 
equally  interesting. 
Here    and    there    our 
careful    search    dis- 
closes a  tented   leaf 
precisely  similar   to 
those  already  described, 
while  beneath  we  may  dis- 
cover   the    same    spiny  tenant. 
Continual   search   reveals   a  num- 
ber of  similar  spiny  caterpillars,  though  variously  variegated,  and 
perhaps  a  gilded  chrysalis  or  two  among  the  stems  and  crevices 


1^0  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

between  the  stones.  Suppose  we  now  transfer  them  all,  perhaps 
a  hundred  or  more  specimens,  to  our  box,  and  await  the  transfor- 
mation from  those  pendent  nymphs  which  soon  will  begem  the 
interior.  After  the  lapse  of  a  fortnight,  upon  opening  the  lid  the 
former  sleepy  hollow  seems  to  have  blossomed  with  painted  wings. 
Here  shall  we  find  our  Comma  by  the  dozens,  and  very  likely, 
too,  counterparts  of  all  the  bright  tribe  which  fluttered  above  the 
vine  upon  the  wall — Semicolon  and  White  J.  A  bright  orange 
butterfly  is  now  seen  sunning  itself  upon  the  young  elm-tree  near 
by.  We  capture  the  insect  with  our  net,  and  find  it  identical 
with  the  Semicolon  in  our  box,  while  examination  of  the  elm 
leaves  reveals  not  only  the  suggestive  empty  chrysalis  shell,  but 
several  thorny  caterpillars  beneath  those  well-known  tented  leaves. 

If  we  care  to  continue  our  investigation  among  the  herbage 
we  may  discover  these  same  caterpillars  upon  the  little  clear- 
weed  in  the  dank  shade  of  the  orchard,  a  succulent  plant  hardly 
a  foot  high,  the  very  opposite  to  a  nettle  in  its  glossy  smoothness; 
and  also  on  the  pellitory,  a  companion  weed.  Upon  all  of  these 
plants,  in  addition  to  the  various  nettles,  I  have  found  the  insects, 
and  once  on  the  hemp.  I  have  also  seen  their  deserted  tents  on 
the  paper-mulberry,  an  exotic  tree,  only  sparingly  cultivated,  but  a 
careful  search  has  failed  to  disclose  the  caterpillar  on  any  other 
plants.  Entomologists  say  that  they  are  also  frequently  found  on 
the  Celtis,  or  sugar-berry  tree.  Here,  then,  we  have  the  following 
summary  and  completed  list  of  plants  upon  which  the  eggs  of  the 
butterfly  have  been  laid:  wood -nettle,  great  stinging  nettle,  and 
all  other  nettles;  false  nettle,  all  the  elms,  clear- weed,  pellitory, 
hemp,  paper-mulberry,  and  sugar-berry  tree.  What  light  does  our 
botany  throw  upon  this  list?  Turning  to  "wood-nettle  "  we  are 
referred  to  Urticacea,  or  the  "  nettle  family,"  wherein  are  disclosed 
all  of  the  above  species  of  plants,  which  actually  complete  the  list 
of  genera  and  nearly  all  the  native  species  of  the  order. 

I  am  not  informed  whether  this  list  is  extended  with  the  ad- 
ditional species  to  be  found  in  the  remoter  parts  of  our  country, 
but  in  the  West  and  South  I  should  confidently  look  for  the  cater- 
pillar on  the  Osage  orange,  Planer-tree,  and  the  fig,  as  it  must 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  I^l 

most  certainly  also  inhabit  the  mulberry.  Have  we  not  here  a 
prehistoric  prophecy  fulfilled  in  an  immemorial,  emphatic  indorse- 
ment of  the  recent  classification  of  a  difficult  group  of  plants,  con- 
cerning which  the  botanical  fathers  were  long  at  differences  ? 

There  would  indeed  appear  to  be  little  in  common  between 
the  nettle  and  the  elm -tree,  or  sugar-berry  tree  with  its  sweet 
edible  drupes,  but  the  modern  scientific  analyst  readily  discovers 
their  close  affinity,  though  for  years,  under  sanction  of  learned 
authorities,  the  elm  and  Celtis  and  others  of  the  group  were 
classed  among  totally  distinct  orders  of  plants. 

An  equally  remarkable  fidelity  to  a  single  group  of  vegetation 
is  seen  in  the  example  of  our  beautiful  black  Swallow-tail  butter- 
fly— the  papilio  of  the  umbel  worts  or  Parsley  family. 

In  the  early  summer  we  may  find  upon  the  garden  fennel  or 
parsley  the  beautifully  marked  caterpillar  of  this  species — bright 
apple  green,  with  circling  bands  of  sable  velvet  studded  with 
golden  yellow  buttons.  They  are  conspicuous  to  the  eye  in  their 
beauty,  and  when  disturbed,  conspicuous  in  a  less  gratifying  sense 
to  the  nostril,  giving  forth  an  obnoxious  odor  from  an  extensible 
double  glandular  horn,  usually  concealed  within  the  front  seg- 
ment of  the  body.  The  caterpillar  is  easily  recognized  any- 
where, and  its  habitat  is  wide.  Let  us  examine  its  bill  of  fare. 
The  plants  commonly  attributed  to  this  species  are  parsley,  fen- 
nel, carrot,  and  celery.  Harris  found  them  also  on  poison -hem- 
lock, cicuta,  dill,  caraway,  and  anise,  -to  which  list  I  can  append 
the  further  additions  from  observation:  wild  carrot,  sanicle,  with 
its  tenacious  burs  (in  the  woods),  angelica,  archangelica,  cow- 
parsnip,  and  lovage.  All  of  these  will  be  found  to  follow  in  their 
natural  sequence,  in  the  classification  of  our  botanies,  under  the 
order  Umbellifera. 

This  strange  fidelity  of  the  Asterias  to  a  single  order  of 
plants  I  had  noted  even  in  boyhood,  and  had  welcomed  my  but- 
terfly as  an  infallible  aid  in  my  botanical  study.  But  one  day  my 
confidence  was  shattered  by  the  discovery  of  a  number  of  caterpil- 
lars feeding  upon  a  creeping,  round-leaved  plant  growing  by  the 
edge  of  the  brook  —  a  prostrate  succulent  herb,  seemingly  devoid 


132 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


of  flowers,  quite  distinct  from  all  the  other  food  plants,  and  new 
to  me.  I  simply  noted  it  as  an  exception,  and  lowered  my  but- 
terfly a  peg  in  my  esteem.  Not  until  years  later,  in  the  more 
serious  pursuit  of  botanical  study,  did  I  dis- 
cover what  a  rare  lesson  in  botany  the  As- 
terias  had  wasted  upon  me;  that  the  little 
unknown  plant  was  in  truth  a  distinct  um- 
belwort  like  the  rest — the  water-pennywort. 
In  this  plant  we  have  an  example  which 
none  but  a  careful  botanist  would 
identify  as  belonging  to  this  fam- 
ily, the  habit  being  entirely  ex- 
ceptional, the  leaf  totally  dis- 
similar to  any  other  species, 
having  more  the  resem- 
blance, indeed,  to  a  mallow, 
or  geranium,  or  Trop&olum, 
and  bearing  a  flower  and 


seed  so  peculiar  and  incon- 
spicuous   that   only    a 
keen,  analytic  eye  could 
trace  their  botanical 
characters. 

Thus  we  have 
cited  two  prime  au- 
thorities on  Urticacecs 
and  Umbellifera.      In    the 
lead  of  the  little  white  but- 
terfly of  our  gardens  (Pie- 
ris  oleraced]  we    may  be 
introduced  to  an  entirely 
new  tribe  of  vegetation,  in- 
dicated by  the  insects'  spe- 
cific  name — the  cabbage  or  potherb   butterfly — a  member  of  a 
small  tribe  of  unimpeachable  experts  on  the  Mustard  family.     For 
it  matters  not  whether  in  the  form  of  candy-tuft  or  sweet-alyssum, 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  1«~ 

cabbage,  horseradish,  kohl-rabi,  broccoli,  cauliflower,  kale,  turnip, 
or  radish,  the  "  fragrant  wallflower  gay,"  or 

" lady's-smock,  all  silver  white," 

it  is  all  one  to  them.  Among  all  the  members  of  this  mustard- 
loving  tribe,  whether  American  or  exotic,  whether  among  the 
yellow  mustard -fields  of  Holland  or  the  peppergrass  of  the  New 
England  road -side,  the  Cruciferous  plants  are  to  them  the  cream 
and  spice  of  all  creation. 

The  botanical  characters  of  this  order  are  quite  distinct,  it  is 
true.  It  is  not  difficult  to  trace  a  plant  to  this  tribe  by  the  qua- 
ternate  petals  and  construction  of  its  fruit,  those  important  requi- 
sites for  the  human  botanist,  but  the  insight  of  our  white  butter- 
fly is  not  so  superficial.  There  are  neither  flowers  nor  fruit  on 
many  of  the  plants  at  the  time  they  are  selected  by  the  in- 
sect; and  furthermore,  in  anticipation  of  the  possible  suggestion 
that  this  selection  may  be  the  result  of  reminiscent  associations 
from  a  previous  caterpillar  state,  I  may  mention  the  interesting 
fact  that  I  have  seen  this  same  white  butterfly  singling  out  with 
marked  partiality  all  the  turnip  roots  and  radishes  from  among 
the  baskets  of  a  grocery  shop  in  the  city  streets.  These  roots,  of 
course,  the  insect  could  never  have  tasted  nor  seen,  even  though 
the  previous  caterpillar  had  possessed  the  power  of  vision,  which 
is  denied  by  entomologists. 

What  lover  of  the  country  will  not  own  his  tribute  to  the 
omnipresent  little  yellow  butterfly,  companion  of  our  September 
fields,  its  folded  wings,  like  a  tiny  rudder  of  gold,  taking  the  helm 
of  all  the  wind-blown  golden- rods  of  the  road-sides,  whose  bright 
bevies  circle  the  borders  of  every  mud -puddle,  rising  from  their 
obscurity  to  swarm  in  mazy  tangle  about  our  carnage  as  we 
pass?  Honey  sippers  and  tipplers,  they  now  would  seem  to  fulfil 
the  impeachment  of  the  "idle  revellers"  of  the  poet;  but  such 
inference  is  unjust,  for  though  now  content  in  the  sweets  of 
aster,  solidago,  and  other  autumn  blossoms,  these  are  but  their 
recess  flowers.  Their  previous  and  most  busy  attention  has 


134 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


already  been  bestowed  upon  another  widely  different  class  of 
plants.  This  Philodice  butterfly  is  one  of  our  most  accomplished 
botanical  authorities — a  botanist  who  knows  beans,  in  very  truth; 
for  where  is  the  genus  of  the  bean  tribe  of  vegetation  that  it  has 
skipped  in  the  choice  of  foster-plants  for  that  future  offspring? 
Lima  beans,  scarlet-runners,  peas,  sweet-peas,  wild -bean,  indigo, 
red  clover,  hop  clover,  white 
clover,  puss  clover,  medic, 
medicago,  lucern,  melilot, 
rattlebox,  vetch,  and  ,/ 
many  more — all  of 
the  leguminous  or 

bean  tribe. 

.  1K®flRgJZS&*r  ^ 


Here  is  a  near 
European  relative  of 
this  same  butterfly  which 
feeds  upon  "  Coronilla  and 
broom    and   other  diadelphous 
plants,"  and   another  allied   spe- 
cies that  feeds  upon  Cytisus,  all  of 
which  our  botany  of  course  includes 
der  Legwninosie.     It  is  interesting  to 
note   further    that    certain    other    individ- 
uals   in    this    same    butterfly    tribe,  Colias 

(exotic  species  in  the  heart  of  Brazil),  continue  the  list  among  the 
tropical  Leguminosa ;  all  of  which  proves  the  close  affinity  be- 
tween the  animated  winged  genus,  Colias,  and  the  "  winged  "  co- 
rollas of  the  pea- blossomed  flowers. 

In  the  agile  white-banded  "skipper"  (Tityrus]  we  have  an- 
other remarkable  illustration  of  discrimination  among  the  same 
order  of  plants,  for  this  butterfly,  like  most  of  its  tribe,  is  partial 
to  "a  mess  of  beans,"  and  are  indeed  discriminating  "skippers" 
of  all  but  "pulse  and  pease."  The  curious,  big-headed  caterpillar 
may  be  disclosed  in  its  cocoon-like  nest  of  leaves  among  the 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  135 

foliage  of  the  common  locust  and  viscid  locust  and  thorny  acacia 
and  wistaria,  these  being  the  food  plants  commonly  given  by  the 
authorities ;  but  the  descendant  of  this  intellectual  larva  also  in- 
cludes the  delicate  wild  pea-nut  vine,  and  ground-nut  vine,  and 
bush  clover,  Hedysarum,  garden  bean,  and  all  the  Desmodiums  in 
its  order  of  the  Legumes  for  its  bill  of  fare,  for  I  have  discovered 
the  species  on  all  these  plants. 

There  are  many  other  insects  for  which  the  Pea  family  pos- 
sesses special  attraction.  There  is  the  tiny  pea -weevil,  a  repre- 
sentative of  a  tribe  of  beetles  whose  early  existence  is  spent 
within  the  ripening  seeds — doubtless  a  common  ingredient  in  our 
appetizing  dish  of  green  peas.  I  remember  once  reading  of  a 
Baltimore  oriole  having  been  shot  for  "  eating  peas,"  the  con- 
tents of  the  craw  afterwards  disclosing  only  such  peas  as  were 
infested  with  the  weevil.  This  diminutive  insect,  indicated  in 
our  "  random  posy,"  probes  the  pod  shortly  after  the  withering  of 
the  blossom,  and  lays  its  eggs  therein.  The  young  immediately 
penetrate  the  peas,  and  there  fulfil  their  existence,  emerging  in 
the  following  spring  as  perfect  beetles.  Our  little  "  wild  "  rattle. 
box  has  a  similar  tenant,  which  upon  its  escape  leaves  a  clean, 
round  hole  in  the  black  pods  of  autumn,  these  tenanted  pods,  by 
some  strange  consciousness,  generally  remaining  intact,  while  the 
perfect  specimens  have  burst  and  scattered  their  seed. 

In  the  same  illustration  may  be  seen  a  singular  rolled  leaf 
upon  a  hazel  branch,  and  concerning  which  I  will  quote  a  page 
from  my  notes  of  years  ago:  "Those  small  rolled  brown  packets 
upon  the  hazels  again !  Shall  I  ever  solve  them— precious  goods 
done  up  in  small  parcels,  but  by  what  insect,  and  how?  This 
mysterious  bundle  committed  to  the  hazel  has  been  a  poser  to  me 
all  my  life,  I  never  yet  having  been  able  to  discover  the  artist  at 
its  work — for  artist  it  is  indeed.  I  found  to-day  a  number  of  the 
prize  packages  freshly  done  up,  the  folded  leaf  yet  green  though 
half  severed  by  the  teeth  of  the  insect,  and  hanging  pendent  to 
the  stem.  A  tiny  yellow  egg  had  been  deposited  at  the  tip  of 
the  leaf — as  shown  by  analysis  of  unrolling — and  the  leaf  then 
folded  in  half  at  mid-vein,  then  rolled  from  tip  upward  to  stem, 


136 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


and    retained   in    its   compact   coil 
by  some  touch  of  jugglery  which 
I  have   not  been   able   to   divine, 
as  no  gluten  nor  web  of  silk  can 
be  found.     Just  try  and   roll  up 
one  of  these  packages  yourself, 
and  without  recourse  to  your  ac- 
customed   string,   leave    it    thus 
closely  and  firmly  intact !     No 
web,  no  gum,  no  stitch,  but 
much  of  the  know 
how.      Whoever 


the  clerk  who  does 
up  these  packages, 
he  has  a  long  head 
and  has  kept  his 
secret    from    me 
very  securely." 

Since  the  writing  of 
the    above,  though    not 
yet  any  more  enlightened  as 
to  the  author  of  this  hocus-pocus 

bundle,  I  have  several  times  observed  a  suspicious-looking  brown 
beetle  nosing  among  its  folds,  and  in  his  strange  make-up  freely 
realizing  the  unconscious  prophecy  of  the  "  long-head,"  for  the 


"SKIPPERS." 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  l«j 

insect  is  one  of  the  weevils,  which  are  noted  for  their  extensive 
frontal  development. 

I  have  also  observed  numbers  of  similar  packets  on  alders,  in 
some  instances  every  leaf  upon  a  given  branch  serving  as  a  wrap- 
per or  showing  its  bare  stub,  the  ground  beneath  being  strewn 
with  the  tiny  bundles.  Neither  do  I  know  the  author  of  these 
packets,  but  would  venture  the  assertion  that  this  is  an  expert  on 
the  alders  as  the  other  is  on  hazels. 

Touching  beetles,  there  is  that  living  gem  faithful  to  the  dog- 
bane. What  a  pleasant  surprise  it  was  to  discover  this  same 
bright  beetle  on  a  mountain  plant  of  Switzerland  in  my  descent 
from  Righi  Culm !  But  no,  on  close  examination  it  proved  to  be 
a  slightly  distinct  species,  and,  singularly  enough,  the  food  plant 
so  closely  similar  to  the  dog-bane  in  appearance  as  to  leave  no 
doubt  of  its  botanical  alliance. 

There  are  a  few  small  moths  whose  lives  are  interesting.  Has 
the  reader  ever  paused  in  his  country  walks  to  examine  the  even- 
ing primrose  plant  by  day  ?  If  not,  it  will  well  repay  a  careful 
search  among  these  faded  cups  of  last  night's  whorl  of  blossoms. 
They  are  still  haunted  by  a  constant  friend  of  their  gayer  hours, 
a  small  moth  which  hides  within  the  wilted  blossom,  only  the 
nether  tip  of  its  wings  appearing  at  the  rim  of  the  withering  co- 
rolla, now  tinged  with  pink. 

It  is  the  little  noctuid  of  the  evening  primrose,  the  moth,  ear- 
liest among  its  twilight  sippers,  while  it  nestles  compassionately 
by  day  within  the  shattered  cup,  lending  its  mimetic  yellow  wings, 
like  added  petals,  to  the  drooping  flower,  sympathetic  even  to 
their  pale  pink  mottlings,  the  identical  flush  which  often  mantles 
the  fading  petals  among  which  they  merge. 

The  tiny  caterpillar  of  this  beautiful  insect  even  now  eludes 
you  among  the  leaves  and  green  seed- pods  of  the  plant,  and  you 
may  find  it  also  on  the  crimson  fire -weed  and  various  other 
plants  of  second  choice — all,  however,  in  the  same  brotherhood  of 
CEnothera,  the  Primrose  family. 

From  Maine  to  Mexico  another  small  noctuid,  known  as  the 
Cotton-moth,  is  found,  its  chosen  haunt  being  indicated  by  its 
is 


138  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

name.  "  Its  food  plant  in  the  North  has  not  yet  been  discovered," 
says  a  prominent  entomologist.  Look  to  your  hollyhocks,  altheas, 
and  mallows,  my  scientific  friend,  for  here  you  will  certainly  find 
the  recluse  in  congenial  company.  Here  is  the  little  "  gourd  "  ex- 
pert, a  tiny  moth  that  shows  no  evidence  of  inherited  dyspepsia, 
though  its  broods  devour  indiscriminately  the  leaves  and  green 
fruit  of  cucumber,  watermelon,  gourd,  muskmelon,  pumpkin,  squash, 
and  wild  star-cucumbers,  all  of  the  Melon  family.  The  imported 
silk-worm,  it  is  said,  will  starve  on  most  substitutes  offered  in 
place  of  its  native  food,  the  mulberry,  but  is  found  to  thrive  on 
the  Osage  orange  —  why?  For  the  same  intuitive  reason  that 
many  species  of  butterflies  which  feed  exclusively  on  grasses  rec- 
ognize a  grass  in  the  sugar-cane  and  Indian-corn. 

We  have  noted  various  specialists  in  quite  a  list  of  botanical 
orders.  This  buzzing  humming-bird-like  moth  which  now  whirls 
about  our  evening  lamps  is  a  reminder  of  another  instructive 
instance  of  botanical  skill.  It  is  a  Hawk-moth,  or  Sphinx,  a  name 
applied  by  Linnaeus  to  a  class  of  moths  noted  for  the  strange 
arch  attitude  of  their  caterpillars;  but  the  name  is  further  borne 
out  in  their  attributes  of  wisdom.  Of  these,  one  group  has  been 
named  by  Harris,  Philampelus — "  I  love  the  vine."  "  I  love  the 
Vitis"  or  its  classic  equivalent,  would  have  been  nearer  the  mark, 
for  all  this  tribe  of  sphinxes,  of  which  I  recall  five  familiar  ex- 
amples, are  equally  fond  of  the  grape  and  the  Virginia-creeper,  or 
"five-leaved  ivy,"  as  it  is  sometimes  called.  On  these  two  plants 
only  are  the  insects  found.  What  shall  we  infer  from  this  cir- 
cumstance? That  these  plants  are  the  only  two  native  genera 
in  the  order  Vitacete — an  inference  which  we  find  is  sustained  in 
our  botany. 

Not  many  years  since,  however,  a  prominent  florist  imported 
a  new  and  beautiful  exotic  vine  —  a  native  of  Japan,  a  luxuriant, 
close-clinging,  rapid  climber — which  met  with  great  popular  favor, 
and  which  now  completely  embowers  many  of  our  metropolitan 
churches,  and  even  private  dwellings,  clambering  from  basement 
to  cornice  during  a  period  of  three  or  four  years.  In  appearance 
it  is  as  much  like  an  ivy  as  anything  else — indeed,  quite  ivy-like 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  !3 

in  its  habit  of  growth ;  but  the  eye  of  the  Sphinx  knew  better,  and 
has  begun  to  adopt  the  plant  in  its  limited  diet,  for  is  it  not  the 
Ampelopsis  tricuspidata,  a  grape-bearing  vine  close  akin  to  our 
Virginia-creeper?  I  have  found  the  caterpillars  feeding  upon  it. 

A  smaller  Sphinx,  with  thorn  upon  its  tail,  known  as  the 
"  Hog  Caterpillar,"  is  perhaps  the  most  common  species  found 
upon  the  Vitis.  But,  says  my  incredulous  observer,  "Here  is  the 
identical  caterpillar  which  I  have  found  upon  a  sprig  of  wild  aza- 
lea, and  have  often  seen  upon  the  Andromeda  and  Clcthra  and 
other  plants  of  the  Heath  family."  And  the  impeachment  would 
certainly  seem  complete.  If  we  keep  the  insect  until  the  follow- 
ing spring,  however,  the  moth  which  emerges  from  the  chrysalis 
will  dispel  all  doubt.  It  is  found  to  be  a  distinct  species — the 
Versicolor,  which  is  as  partial  to  the  Heath  family  as  its  double 
was  to  the  Vitis. 

Then  there  is  that  great  green  Sphinx  caterpillar,  which  is  the 
pest  of  the  tobacco -grower,  and  the  thrilling  prize  of  the  small 
boy  entomologist,  and  whose  loud -humming,  long-tongued  moth 
hovers  about  our  twilight  honeysuckles  —  one  of  the  largest  of  its 
kind.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  mention  that  this  is  the  same 
voracious  feeder  which  we  find  upon  tomato  and  potato  plants, 
as  well  as  occasionally  upon  the  red-berried  nightshade,  ground- 
cherry,  and  apple  of  Peru.  I  have  never  happened  to  find  it  on 
henbane  or  stramonium;  but  who  shall  dispute  that  the  botanical 
skill  which  should  include  the  former  list  might  not  also  extend 
to  all  the  rest  of  the  Solanum  tribe  ? 

Once,  when  a  boy,  I  found  a  voracious  Sphinx  upon  "pusley," 
the  "mean"  weed  of  the  garden,  and  reared  it  to  the  moth  —  the 
white -lined  Sphinx.  The  following  year  I  found  the  same  cater- 
pillar on  the  flowering  portulaca,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  as  fond 
of  the  "  spring  beauty  "  as  are  the  poets,  if  we  could  only  chance 
to  observe  it,  for  the  Purslane  family  embraces  all  these  plants. 

The  botanical  acumen  of  the  Sphinx  extends  to  various  other 
plant  tribes.  The  sphinx  Kalmia  knows  not  only  the  mountain- 
laurel,  but  many  other  heathworts,  notably  whortleberry,  azalea, 
and  cranberry.  The  Oleander  sphinx  finds  the  oleander  flavor  in 


140 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


the  creeping  blue-flowered  periwinkle  or  "myrtle "of  our  gardens. 
Another  black  and  yellow  individual,  whose  name  I  do  not  know, 
is  true  to  the  Madder  family.  Another  takes  the  pine,  spruce, 
and  hemlock  in  its  exclusively  conifer  diet.  The  Sphinx  Cinerea 
has  disclosed  itself  to  me  on  ash,  lilac,  the  cultivated  fringe-tree, 
and  privet — a  consecutive  lesson  in  botany  which  was  committed 
to  memory,  and  verified  by  my  manual  in  the  Olive  family. 

There  is  a  beautiful  moth  known  as  the  rosy  Dryocampa.  I 
have  found  its  black -horned  caterpillars  on  sugar- maples,  silver 
and  red  maples,  and  one  day  discovered  it  also  on  the  box -elder. 
How  did  this  little  moth  know  that  this  ash -leaved  bough  of 
spring  was  only  a  maple  in  masquerade  ?  Who  but  a  skilled  bot- 
anist could  ever  have  identified  it?  What  the  Dryocampa  does 
for  the  maples  the  Thisbe  butterfly  does  for  the  "arrow -woods," 
and  the  Phaeton  and  Lavinia  butterflies  for  the  figworts.  The 
white  snowball  of  our  shrubberies  is  a  favorite  haunt  of  the  for- 
mer insect,  but  it  finds  the  nannyberry-bush  an  equally  attractive 
Viburnum,  while  the  painted-cup,  snake-head,  and  toad-flax  form 
the  principal  choice  of  the  last  two  insects,  which  preside  over 
the  family  Schrophulariaceee.  Among  the  more  modest  wild  flow- 
ers we  find  the  same  revelation.  The  violets  have  a  whole  brood 
of  faithful  dependants.  The  handsome  silver -spotted  Aphrodite 
butterfly  knows  that  the  tall  yellow  violet  of  the  woods  is  only  a 
less  conspicuous  cousin  to  the  blue  "bird -foot"  species,  and  that 
the  pansy  is  only  a  vain  descendant  of  the  wild  "Johnny  jumper" 
of  past  ages,  which  the  progenitor  of  all  the  aphrodites  sought 
for  the  care  of  its  offspring. 

I  remember  once,  when  a  lad,  observing  a  very  strange  slug 
caterpillar  upon  a  skunk  -  cabbage  leaf,  and  subsequently  discov- 
ered it  again  on  the  sweet-flag,  or  calamus,  little  dreaming  the  bo- 
tanical significance  of  the  event,  for  both  of  these  herbs  are  in 
the  Arum  family  —  a  striking  instance  of  the  wide,  outward  dis- 
similarity which  often  exists  between  allied  species.  We  have 
already  noted,  for  instance,  the  affinity  between  the  elm  and  the 
nettle,  the  puss  clover  and  the  locust-tree.  In  further  illustration, 
there  would  seem  to  be  no  greater  gap  possible  in  the  vegetable 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS. 


141 


S 


A  RANDOM   POSY. 


kingdom   than   that  between  the  pineapple  and 
the  Southern  moss  which  drapes  our  subtropi- 
cal trees.     And   yet  the   discriminating  eye  of 
the  botanical  analyst  readily  detects  their 
close   kinship,  and  places  them  side  by 
side.     My  knowledge  of  the  Southern 
flora  and  fauna  is  limited.     I  do  not 
happen  to  know  of  any  insect  that 
inhabits  the  swinging  fringe  of  the 
bayou,  but  if  any  there  be   I  should 
confidently   expect  its   discovery   also 
upon  the  leaves  of  the  pine- 
apple.     There    is,  indeed, 
scarcely  a  single  family  of 
plants  without  its  responsi- 
ble specialist  among  the  in- 
sect tribes.    We  have  already 
noted  a  number  of  such,  and 
the  list  of  ready  authorities 
is    doubtless    as    complete 
throughout    this    primal   su- 
preme   botany    as    in    the 
modern  human  infringement. 
Among   these   orders    not    al- 
ready mentioned  is  the  Willow 
family  —  the    poplars    and    wil- 
lows being   interchangeable  as 
the  choice  of  many  insects. 

The  great   Composite?  have 
many    experts,    likewise    the 
oak  pink,  polygonum,  mint,  and 
ranunculus.     There  are  many  dis- 
ciples   of   the   Rose  — keen    senses 
<p       that  discover  it  in  the   apple,  cherry, 
plum,   hawthorn    bramble,   cinquefoil, 
spirea,  and  strawberry.    The  Apple-tree  moth 


I42  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

is  an  example,  never  intrusting  that  waterproof  circlet  of  eggs 
(shown  in  my  "random  posy")  to  any  tree  outside  of  this  family, 
most  commonly  contenting  herself  with  the  apple  and  wild-cherry. 

I  might  indefinitely  prolong  the  list  of  testimonials  to  this 
divine  plan  of  association  between  the  insect  and  the  plant;  and 
while  it  is  not  a  necessary  assumption,  inasmuch  as  "  we  have  no 
experience  in  the  creation  of  worlds,"  it  would  seem  a  perfectly 
justifiable  inference  that  all  species  of  butterflies  and  moths  were 
created  with  a  special  affinity  to  some  congenial  order  of  plants. 
It  would  then  appear  that  this  power  of  nice  distinction  has  de- 
teriorated in  many  insects,  either  through  the  degraded  instinct 
of  the  parent  or  less  fastidious  appetite  in  the  caterpillar  off- 
spring, and  inasmuch  as  the  "  exception "  has  come  to  be  consid- 
ered as  an  important  attribute  in  proving  the  rule,  I  will  append 
a  few  such  instances,  some  of  which,  indeed,  are  quite  as  inter- 
esting and  instructive  as  the  "  infallibles." 

In  the  examples  of  the  large  Cccropia,  Polyphemus,  Prome- 
theus, and  Lima  moths,  as  well  as  in  a  number  of  butterflies,  it  is 
true  the  power  of  discernment  seems  to  have  been  lost,  the  se- 
lection of  food  plants  extending  into  various  families,  though  even 
here,  it  must  be  remembered,  we  are  taking  a  thousand  insects  as 
a  unit,  there  being  a  strong  probability  that  any  one  individual 
parent  and  its  offspring  may  yet  be  found  true  to  a  particular  bo- 
tanical affinity  to  which  its  brood  is  intrusted,  the  various  peculi- 
arities being,  as  it  were,  the  hereditary  result  of  some  confusion  of 
Babel  in  the  remote  past.  The  Saturnia  Jo  belies  the  great  show 
of  "bull's-eyes"  upon  its  wings,  being  blindly  indiscriminate.  But 
what  do  we  find  in  the  instance  of  the  Monarch  or  Archippus 
butterfly,  the  protege  of  the  milk -weeds?  You  will  find  its  black- 
and-yellow  banded  caterpillar  on  all  the  six  species  of  New  Eng- 
land Asclepias  if  you  look  with  sufficient  patience,  though  chiefly 
upon  the  common  silk -weed.  It  is  a  faithful  nursling  of  this  lac- 
tescent tribe.  On  one  occasion,  however,  I  have  found  it  thriving 
on  the  dog-bane,  a  similarly  milky-juiced  plant.  But  what  is  the 
fiat  of  the  human  botanical  judges?  The  dog-bane  is  ordered  out 
of  the  milk -weeds,  though  it  immediately  precedes  them  in  the 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  ^ 

botanical  sequence,  and  certain  affinities  are  readily  traceable  be- 
tween the  two  orders,  both  plants  having  milky  sap,  opposite, 
entire  leaves,  long  pods,  silky  seeds,  and  other  more  intricate 
resemblances.  Looking  a  little  further  into  the  subject,  we  find, 
moreover,  that  while  now  separated  in  classification,  the  earlier 
botanists  had  included  the  plant  with  the  milk -weeds,  from  which 
it  was  withdrawn  only  after  much  scholarly  discussion.  Clearly, 
the  antecedent  classification  of  the  butterfly  should  have  been  re- 
spected at  the  hands  of  the  learned  disputants.  The  dog-bane 
was  linked  with  the  milk -weed  eons  before  the  world  knew  a 
human  botanist.  When  the  writer's  botany  appears,  this  priority 
of  Danais  Archippus,  Ph.D.,  D.D.,  F.D.S.,  will  be  duly  recognized. 

I  have  never  seen  this  caterpillar  on  the  closely  allied  peri- 
winkle, but  would  almost  expect  to  find  it  there  even  as  I  once 
observed  the  butterfly  suggestively  hovering  about  a  vine  of 
Hoya  or  wax -plant,  a  cultivated  exotic  trained  about  a  porch, 
but  which  is  a  true  relative  of  the  mi  Ik- weed. 

A  somewhat  parallel  instance  of  botanical  priority  is  to  be 
seen  in  the  Parnassus  Apollo  butterfly,  the  beautiful  sylph  of  the 
Swiss  Alps,  member  of  a  boreal  tribe,  rarely  found  below  an  ele- 
vation of  1500  feet — lovers  of  the  mountains,  as  their  name  im- 
plies, and  one  of  which,  pictured  at  the  right  of  my  Alpen  de- 
sign, I  observed  among  the  Alpine  cowslips  on  the  summit  of 
Righi  Culm.  The  food  plant  of  this  insect,  according  to  the 
authorities,  is  confined  to  the  saxifrages,  a  tribe  of  plants  com- 
prising a  large  number  of  Alpine  species.  I  learn,  also,  that  the 
caterpillars  are  sometimes  found  on  a  species  of  sedum — a  stone- 
crop —  two  families  distinctly  separated  in  the  botanies,  though 
following  each  other  in  Gray's  sequence ;  and  research  further 
shows  that  De  Candolle  originally  traced  the  closest  affinity  be- 
tween these  two  orders.  It  is  not  on  record  whether  Apollo  gave 
him  the  hint.  This  airy  butterfly  is  common  alike  in  the  flow- 
ery vales  and  snowy  heights  of  Switzerland,  doubtless  finding 
abundant  congenial  companions  among  this  genus  of  Alpine 
plants  (Saxifrages),  which  have  accompanied  the  surface  drifts  and 
hugged  the  skirts  of  the  glacier  through  the  ages,  many  of  which, 


144 


STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 


haunting  the  crevices  of  the  steep  aiguilles,  have  served  as  modest 
factors  in  that  process  of  disintegration  which  has  hurled  this  vast 
burden  of  moraine  upon  the  sea  of  ice — "Saxa-fraga,  I  break  a 
stone,"  says  the  etymologist. 

Some  authorities  affirm  that  the  "semicolon,"  which  is  so 
wonderfully  discriminating  in  the  Nettle  family,  as  already  shown, 
is  occasionally  found  on  the  Linden.  I  have  never  happened  to 
verify  this  statement.  It  is  certainly  not  a  common  choice  of  the 
insect  in  the  localities  which  I  have  frequented,  and  I  half  sus- 
pect that  the  placing  of  that  "  Linden  "  egg  was  a  case  of  careless 
mispunctuation  on  the  part  of  the  "  semicolon  "  (if  not  of  the  au- 
thor), or  may  be  referred  to  some  lapsing  ancestor  which  has 
bequeathed  his  degeneracy  to  a  single  small  line  of  descendants. 

In  a  former  work  I  have  alluded  to  those  pretty  petal  bowers 
upon  the  everlasting  in  which  the  spiny,  white-spotted  caterpillar 
of  the  hunter's  butterfly  lies  concealed  by  day,  or  hangs  its  jew- 
elled chrysalis — of  all  its  tribe  the  true  model  of  the  poet: 

"I'd  be  a  butterfly  born  in  a  bovver." 

Other  observers  have  found  the  larvae  on  many  plants  of  the 
same  genus  only,  and  in  the  one  next  allied,  Antennaria.  But 
Scudder  says  the  "forget-me-not,"  an  unassociated  plant,  is  also 
included  among  its  diet.  There  is  some  mistake  here.  Let  us 
hope  that  the  fickle  deserter  may  yet  listen  to  the  message  of  the 
Flora  Symbolica,  and  return  to  its  deserted  immortelles. 

Our  Painted  Lady  butterfly  is  another  interesting  exception,  as 
showing  a  dual  botanical  mission  in  selecting  the  plants  of  two 
natural  orders,  and  never  going  outside  of  them,  representing, 
doubtless,  an  hereditary  choice  in  each  given  brood,  rather  than 
mixed  impartially  in  one.  The  caterpillar  is  quite  commonly  found 
upon  thistles  of  all  kinds,  constructing  a  web -tent  hung  from  the 
spiny  points  of  the  leaves,  whence  it  emerges  at  night  to  feed. 
"It  is  found,  also,"  says  an  authority,  "on  sunflower,  hollyhock, 
burdock,  and  other  rough-leaved  plants,"  but  these  other  "rough- 
leaved  plants"  could  most  certainly  be  traced  to  one  of  the  two 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS. 


N 


families  represented  in  the  list,  Composites  and  Malvacea. 
Other  entomologists  give  the  following  plants :    Mal- 
lows of  all  kinds,  althea,  silybum  chiccory,  helianthus, 
marianum,  velvet- leaf,  and    okra, 
and   it  may  be    looked  for   with 
confidence  upon  the  cotton  plant. 

The  Phaeton  butterfly  of 
my  illustration  is  partial  /R 

to  the  Figwort  family,        '^  .  aL^jM.  /£ 
its  list  of  selec- 
tions     chiefly 
comprising   the 
turtle -head,    toad- 
flax, schrophularia, 
moth-mullein,    and 
painted-cup.      The 
latter,  with  the  scar- 
let leaves  posing  as 

blossoms,  no   one 
but  an  expert  would 
think  of  associating 
with  the  other  plants 
mentioned.    But  I  learn 
from  Scudder  that  this 
caterpillar  is  also  found  on 
the  honeysuckle — a  poser,  this, 
in   truth  —  were    it   not    that  it 
seems  a  clear  case  of  heedless- 
ness,  an    egg  that  was   left  while 
the    butterfly   was    sipping   the   honey 
tubes,  of  course. 

My  experience  has  never  disclosed  the 
weird-looking  eye-spotted  caterpillars  of  the 
Troilus  butterfly,  or  blue  swallow-tail,  upon 
any  other  foliage  than  those  of  sassafras  and 
spice -wood,  the   only  two   Northern  species  of 


I46  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

the  family  Lauracece,  upon  which  it  conceals  itself  in  the  neatly 
folded  leaf,  as  pictured.  And  yet  I  see  that  some  collectors  have 
found  it  also  on  the  prickly -ash,  hop-tree  (Ptelea\  and  syringa. 
Concerning  the  last  mentioned,  I  can  offer  no  explanation,  but 
the  other  two  exceptions  —  both  in  the  Rue  family — have  a  some- 
what interesting  significance,  taken  in  connection  with  the  insect 
next  considered.  The  Ailantus  silk -worm — introduced  into  this 
country  from  China  about  twenty  years  ago,  and  now  very  com- 
mon in  certain  sections — for  years  was  not  known  to  swerve  in 
its  allegiance  to  its  own  companion,  "  tree  of  heaven."  On  the 
basis  of  the  facts  already  set  forth,  would  any  one  doubt  that  if 
its  favorite  food  plant  were  suddenly  exterminated  there  would  be 
a  winged  stampede,  as  it  were,  to  the  prickly- ash  and  hop-tree 
(Ptelea},  the  only  two  native  allies  to  the  Ailantus?  But  what 
are  the  singular  facts?  The  moth,  I  am  told  by  careful  observ- 
ers, has  quite  recently  proven  fickle  to  its  original  diet,  and  yet 
ignores  the  kindred  plants.  As  a  naturalized  foreigner,  under  new 
conditions,  it  has  concluded  to  "do  as  the  Romans  do,"  and  out 
of  compliment  takes  the  lead  of  its  closest  insect  ally,  our  Pro- 
metkeus  moth,  whose  favorite  selections  are  the  sassafras  and  its 
relative  the  spice-wood,  upon  both  of  which  the  Ailantus  is  now 
occasionally  found.  There  certainly  would  seem  to  be  some  oc- 
cult affinity  between  these  two  orders  of  plants,  Lauracecs  and 
Rutacece,  which  the  botanists  have  not  discovered. 

The  exceptions,  however,  only  emphasize  by  contrast  the  infi- 
nite number  of  almost  infallible  instances,  enforcing  the  irresisti- 
ble deduction  of  an  original  universal  law  of  botanical  distinction 
among  the  insect  tribes.  These  lapses,  if  not  instances  of  mere 
temporary  aberration  eventually  to  be  discountenanced  by  the 
"survival  of  the  fittest,"  may  perhaps  be  significantly  associated 
with  these  remarkable  freaks  of  transition  noted  by  collectors — 
those  strange  dissimilar  double  broods  of  the  same  insect  in  which 
some  scientists  discover  the  pioneers  of  newly  created  species.* 


*  In  the  "  Semicolon,"  for  instance,  which  I  have  shown  to  lapse  occasionally 
in  its  botany,  and  the  Alope  butterfly  and  many  others,  the  two  succeeding  broods 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS.  l^ 

It  might  be  imagined  that  allied  plants  possessed  some  essen- 
tial quality  in  common  by  which  the  insect  might  associate  them, 
but  such  an  hypothesis  is  needless,  as  the  butterfly  does  not  taste 
the  plants  upon  which  its  eggs  are  laid,  and  rarely  visits  them 
even  when  in  blossom,  its  roving  days  being  spent  among  hon- 
eyed flowers  quite  indiscriminately. 

While  the  foregoing  facts  are  largely  the  result  of  personal 
observation,  research  only  further  emphasizes  the  seeming  law 
involved.  Whether  in  the  tropics  or  the  arctic  regions,  from 
Labrador  to  Patagonia,  the  butterflies  have  always  pursued  this 
wise  prerogative,  and  doubtless  in  many  regions  yet  unexplored 
by  man  have  even  now  anticipated  the  botanists  of  the  future. 

In  a  preferment  of  the  arctic  or  glacial  environment  of  my 
subject  I  have  shown  unconscious  allegiance  to  the  mother-earth 
my  feet  have  trod — our  own  blossoming  moraines. 

Perhaps,  also,  that  inspiriting  winter  butterfly  is  somewhat 
responsible  for  my  point  of  view  and  the  resultant  flight  of  fancy; 
but  if  any  doubts  as  to  the  consequent  deductions  had  been  pos- 
sible with  me,  they  are  now  forever  set  at  rest;  for  here,  in  the 
middle  of  January,  upon  the  last  day  of  the  completion  of  my 
writing,  I  am  visited  with  a  sudden  and  strange  vision  of  that 
same  inspiring  butterfly.  I  know  not  whether  it  is  the  same  free 
spirit  which  enraptured  my  boyhood,  or  the  buoyant  sylph  which 
hovered  above  those  Alpen  snows,  but  it  lent  its  presence  once 
more  to  me  to-day,  much  to  the  amazement  of  several  witnesses. 
As  I  sat  in  the  reference-room  of  our  city  library,  even  as  I 
consulted  the  authorities  upon  its  own  ubiquitous  existence,  it 
perched  upon  the  rail  close  by,  and  applauded  my  efforts  with  its 
palpitating  wings. 

of  the  season  are  sometimes  so  widely  dissimilar  that,  according  to  Scudder,  they 
have  been  universally  classified  as  distinct  species,  until  their  common  parentage 
was  proved.  Mr.  Edwards  gives  three  distinct  forms  of  the  Zebra  swallow-tail 
appearing  in  successive  broods  in  spring,  summer,  and  autumn.  It  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  imagine  accidental  conditions  of  weather,  and  resultant  effects  in  habits, 
or  natural  selection,  through  which  one  of  these  particular  types  might  be  perpetu- 
ated as  the  permanent  fixed  form. 


I48  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

Thus  once  more  led  to  the  snows,  I  am  reminded  of  a  boreal 
recluse  which  I  had  almost  forgotten,  and  with  which  I  may  fit- 
tingly bring  my  rambling  essay  to  a  close.  Here,  among  the 
Alpen  peaks  of  our  own  country,  we  may  learn  a  lesson  from 
antiquity,  in  the  example  if  not  of  the  most  beautiful,  certainly 
in  many  respects  the  most  interesting,  butterfly  among  its  tribe. 
Much  has  been  written  concerning  this  strange  lover  of  the  cold. 
I  will  quote  a  recent  reference  of  Grant  Allen: 


"  On  and  near  the  summit  of  Mount  Washington  a  small  community  of  butter- 
flies, belonging  to  an  old  glacial  and  arctic  species,  still  lingers  over  a  very  small 
area  where  it  has  held  its  own  for  the  eighty  thousand  years  that  have  elapsed 
since  the  termination  of  the  great  ice  age.  The  actual  summit  of  the  mountain 
rises  to  a  height  of  6293  feet ;  and  the  butterflies  do  not  range  lower  than  the  5000 
feet  line.  .  .  .  Again,  from  Mount  Washington  to  Long's  Peak  in  Colorado  the  dis- 
tance amounts  to  1800  miles,  while  from  the  White  Mountains  to  Hopedale  in  Lab- 
rador, where  the  same  butterflies  first  appear,  makes  a  bee-line  of  fully  a  thousand 
miles.  In  the  intervening  districts  there  are  no  insects  of  the  same  species. 
Hence  we  must  conclude  that  a  few  butterflies  left  behind  in  the  retreating  main 
guard  of  their  race  on  that  one  New  Hampshire  peak  have  gone  on  for  thousands 
and  thousands  of  years  producing  eggs,  and  growing  from  caterpillars  into  full- 
fledged  insects  without  once  effecting  a  cross  with  the  remainder  of  their  conge- 
ners among  the  snows  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  or  in  the  chilly  plains  of  sub- 
arctic America.  So  far  as  they  themselves  know,  they  are  the  only  representatives 
of  their  kind  now  remaining  on  the  whole  earth,  left  behind  like  the  ark  on  Ararat 
amid  the  helpless  ruins  of  an  antediluvian  world." 

For  200,000  years,  according  to  geological  data,  these  boreal 
broods  must  have  wooed  the  frozen  seas,  driven  southward  by  the 
overwhelming  ice,  companions  of  the  verdant  fringe  of  the  vast 
glacier,  following  in  its  retreat,  at  length  beguiled  by  remnant  ice- 
fields lodged  in  the  "  great  gulfs "  of  the  Presidential  range,  and 
at  last  stranded  among  the  furrowed  peaks. 

For  years  this  butterfly  in  the  foreground  of  my  Alpen  de- 
sign was  supposed  to  be  confined  to  Mount  Washington,  but,  as 
shown  above,  it  has  revealed  itself  on  other  distant  summits.  It 
is  also  credited  to  Mount  Monadnock,  and  I  think  revealed  itself 
to  me  on  Lthe  peak  of  Mount  Lafayette,  though  decoying  me 


PREHISTORIC    BOTANISTS. 


I49 


beyond  the  limits  of  prudence,  and  thus  defeating  capture,  or  even 
perfect  identification. 

Who  shall  question  that  through  the  ages,  as  now,  this  mount- 
ain sprite  has  been  true  to  the  companion  plants  upon  which  its 
broods  are  found,  even  as  it  is  still  true  in  its  mimetic  wings  to 
the  everlasting  rocks  among  which  it  hibernates  ? 

Thus,  whether  in  the  tropics  or  beneath  the  glacial  drift,  the 
testimonies  of  the  rocks  abide,  disclosing  the  prehistoric  leaf  side 
by  side  with  the  feathery  intaglio,  telling  not  of  the  "  idle  rover  " 
and  "  Epicurean  of  June,"  but  of  divine  emissaries,  sponsors  to 
their  companion  blossoms  through  the  prescribed  period  of  their 
being,  and  myriads  of  whose  species  now  extinct  were  linked 
through  the  ages,  even  unto  the  present,  in  the  faithful  bond  of 
the  butterflies'  flight. 


"A  woodland  walk, 

A  quest  of  river  grapes,  a   mocking  thrush, 
A  wild  rose,  a  rock -loving  columbine, 
Salve  my  worst  wounds." 

EMERSON. 


"Stranger,  if  tbou  bast  learned  a  truth  which  needs 
No  school  of  long  experience,  that  the  world 
Is  full  of  guilt  and  misery,  and  hast  seen 
Enough  of  all  its  sorrows,  crimes,  and  cares 
To  tire  thee  of  it,  enter  this  wild  wood 
And  view  the  Haunts  of  Nature.     The  calm  shade 
Shall  bring  a  kindred  calm,  and  the  sweet  breeze 
That  makes  the  green  leaves  dance  shall  waft  a  balm 
To  thy  sick  heart.     Thou  wilt  find  nothing  here 
Of  all  that  pained  thee  in  the  haunts  of  men 
And  made  thee  loathe   thy  life." 

BRYANT. 


URING    a   recent 
visit   to   England 
I  devoted  a  whole 
day  to  a  stroll  throu 


those  glazed  acres  of  the  famous 
London  conservatories.     After  walking 
in   sensuous    delight    through    miles    of 

o  o 

perfumed  bowers  and  all  manner  of  won- 
drous floral  luxuriance,  I  was  at  length  invited,  as  a  special  cour- 
tesy, to  view  what  I  was  assured  would  prove  the  climax  of  inter- 
est and  beauty,  the  reigning  sensation  in  the  way  of  an  "  orchid 
hybrid."  Following  my  guide,  I  soon  entered  the  "  propagating- 
house,"  wherein  are  born  into  the  world  every  year  those  hun- 
dreds of  hapless  nondescripts  against  which  Nature  protests  in 


!54  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

vain.  There,  among  a  coterie  of  its  kind,  in  blushing  conscious- 
ness, more  sinned  against  than  sinning,  stood  the  poor  innocent 
which  was  the  talk  of  the  town,  a  Cypripedium  mongrel,  flanked 
on  either  side  by  the  two  helpless  parent  species. 

Twelve  years  of  eager  waiting,  I  was  told,  had  this  very  week 
rewarded  the  "culturist"  with  the  first  fruit  of  this  unnatural 
union.  An  "  improvement,"  it  was  called,  and  one  in  which  the 
instigator  seemed  to  take  as  much  pride  as  though  the  waif  had 
deserved  the  Lord's  blessing. 

Those  voluptuous,  oppressive  roses,  too,  which,  like  the  fair 
ones  of  certain  Oriental  countries,  are  admired,  it  would  seem,  in 
proportion  to  their  overgrowth,  all  "  improved,"  we  are  told,  from 
"a  mere  wild  rose."  O  pagan  marplot!  How  had  your  enter- 
taining courtesy  changed  to  gall  could  you  have  read  the  vigor- 
ous pitying  comment  beneath  the  non-committal  exterior  of  your 
guest!  How  much  else  of  the  mysteries  of  that  hybrid  depart- 
ment would  have  been  disclosed  to  his  scientific  scrutiny  had  he 
dared  intimate  that  he  preferred  the  Lord's  Cypripedium  even  to 
Smith's,  and  the  eglantine  of  Parnassus  to  the  "  improved  Ori- 
ental Beauty  "  or  the  Souvenir  de  Grande  Ducliesse  de  Paragon, 
splendidissimum,  superbnm  grandiftorum  !  Six  thousand  dollars 
for  a  mongrel  tulip,  when  a  pure  type,  direct  from  the  divine 
hand,  might  be  had  for  the  asking ! 

With  what  a  sigh  of  relief  and  exaltation  of  spirit  do  I  leave 
the  degenerate  precincts  of  a  garden  such  as  this  for  the  wild 
garden  of  innocence  and  peace! 

Truly  has  Goethe  said,  "  Some  flowers  are  only  lovely  to  the 
eye,  but  others  are  lovely  to  the  heart."  For  whatever  of  purely 
sensuous  or  intellectual  delight  the  conservatory  may  hold  for  us, 
it  is  to  the  wild  garden  that  we  turn  for  the  higher  delights  of 
the  spirit.  Though  the  apple  of  the  Hesperides  bloom  there, 
we  shall  miss  its  golden  fruit. 

To  be  brought  face  to  face  with  one  of  those  wondrous 
orchids  of  the  tropics  —  the  Oncidium  papilio  or  Spirito  santo, 
even  robbed  of  the  magic  attribute  of  their  native  environment — 
is  indeed  a  memorable  experience ;  but  what  compared  to  the 


WHITE    CYPRIPEDICM. 


emotional    thrill      / 

that    awaits    me 

yonder  in  the  hemlock  woods? 

Here  is    a   sanctuary   unprofaned,  pre- 
sided   over    by    a    presence    which    always 
brings  peace  without  alloy.     The  dim  aisles 

are  redolent  with  sacred  incense  and  filled  with  prophecy.  All 
my  wonted  fellow- worshippers  are  here;  one  by  one  I  pass  them; 
now  lightly  hovering,  or  there  prostrate  on  the  hushed  carpet, 


!^6  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

till  at  length,  my  sins  confessed,  my  matins  said,  my  soul  re- 
freshed, as  I  leave  the  temple  inspired  for  the  work  of  a  new  day, 
I  am  led  as  though  by  an  unseen  hand  to  a  bright  spot  where 
the  sunbeams  penetrate  the  gloom  through  a  window  in  the 
pines,  and  I  stand  transfixed !  "  What,"  do  you  ask,  "  a  vision  ?" 
Yes.  Look!  yonder  in  the  chancel,  those  snowy  lilies  hovering 
among  the  ferns !  A  vision  ?  Yes.  What  matters  it  that  my 
seraph  assumed  the  material  form  which  man  has  called  "  Cypri- 
pedium  ?"  In  the  archetypal  botany  of  the  Infinite  we  know  not 
what  may  be  its  correspondence. 

"  Not  a  natural  flower  can  grow  on  earth 
Without  a  flower  upon  the  spiritual  side, 
Substantial,  archetypal,  all  aglow 
With  blossoming  causes  —  not  so  far  away 
That  we,  whose  spirit  sense  is  somewhat  cleared, 
May  not  catch  something  of  the  bloom  and  breath." 

How  many  of  my  congenial  spirits  everywhere  that  chance  to 
read  my  page  will  have  known  with  me  the  exaltation  of  mo- 
ments such  as  this !  How  readily  will  they  pardon  me  if  I 
"paint  the  lily"  in  the  hope  of  reawakening  an  experience 
which,  perchance,  may  have  become  obscured  through  the  years, 
but  for  which  life  has  been  the  sweeter,  the  happier,  and  the 
better!  Such  is  the  harvest  of  the  wild  garden  —  divine  fruits 
not  reckoned  in  the  conservatory  nor  yet  in  the  botany. 

As  in  the  artificial  garden  we  pass  from  parterre  to  parterre, 
or  to  conservatory  or  shaded  fernery,  each  with  its  appropriate 
denizens,  so  in  the  wilds  we  find  the  worthier  model,  every  condi- 
tion of  sod,  of  light,  of  shade  finding  its  true  expression.  The 
"forest  ledge"  has  its  own  family,  which  the  botanists  well  know. 
The  pine  wood  has  its  faithful  broods ;  the  yielding  loam,  with 
"  soft  brown  silence  carpeted,"  is  figured  with  bloom  and  garland 
easily  numbered  in  anticipation.  The  beech  woods  have  a  rival 
company.  The  hemlocks  hold  the  darling  of  the  mould,  the 
trailing  arbutus,  always  with  a  numerous  attendant  complement. 
The  meadow- blooms  that  fall  in  the  swath  of  the  new- mown  hay 


THE     WILD     GARDEN. 


157 


we  all  know — the  daisies,  the  clovers,  buttercups,  lilies,  and  mead- 
ow-rue. Even  in  the  burning  sand-dunes  of  the  sea -shore  or  the 
desert  we  may  be  sure  of  a  number  of  faithful  missionaries,  while 
the  same  sand  that  chances  to  rim  the  lake 
nurses  a  distinctly  different  brood. 

The  swamp  claims  a  long  list  of  choice 
favorites,  while  even  from  the  ripples  of  the 
lake  or  the  "  depths  beneath "  you  may 
gather  the  same  consistent  bouquet. 

When  the  geologist  hears  of  the  open- 
ing of  a  new  quarry  or  the  blasting  of  a 
tunnel  he  is  quickly  on  the  spot  for  his 
harvest  of  crystal.  So  with  the  botanist ; 
the  same  new  conditions  turn  up  nuggets 
for  him  also. 

Burroughs   discovered    a   blasted   ledge 
draped    in   the   beautiful    climbing   fumito- 
ry where  the  plant  had  never  before  been 
known,  which  singular  fact  may  possibly 
throw  some   light  on   the   old  belief 
which  is  said  to  have  christened  the 
flower.    "  The  fumitory/'  as  Gerarde 
says  of  an  allied  plant  with  similar 
ways  of  sudden  appearance  in  broken 
ground,  "  is  fabled  to  be  engendered  of 
a  coarse  fumosity  rising  from  the  earth, 
which  windeth   and  wrieth  about,  and 
by  working  in  the  air  and  sun  is  turned 
into  this  herb."     How  simple  it  all  seems 
when  it  is  explained  ! 

I  once  visited  a  similar  blast  in  a  haunt 
known  all  my  life,  and  was  astonished  to 
find  the  ruins  rosy  with  literal  beds  of  the 
small  catchfly  pink,  accompanied  by  a  rank 
growth  of  pasture  mullein,  growing  in  the, depths  of  a  dense  wood ! 

Who    knows   what    a   wild   garden    might    be    coaxed   from    a 


A    GROUP   OF   ORCHIDS. 


158  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

spadeful  of  earth  taken  at  random  from  the  depths  of  the  sod  ? 
A  fire  sweeps  over  the  mountains;  next  year  you  will  find  its 
black  carbon  bed  afire  with  bloom  that  those  calcined  ledges 
never  saw  before;  but  the  wind  has  been  taking  care  of  that. 
A  railroad  has  perhaps  just  been  desecrating  the  woods  in  your 
vicinity.  Follow  its  embankment  and  you  may  pick  a  bouquet 
as  rare  to  you  as  though  from  the  Orient.  The  railroad  track 
seems  to  have  especial  attractions  for  a  number  of  restless  bohe- 
mian  plants  that  would  seem  to  thrive  on  abnormal  excitement. 
The  very  oily  refuse  dropped  from  the  engine  invites  many  a 
sleepless  floral  gamin,  the  ambition  of  whose  lives  would  seem  to 
be  to  dodge  the  whirling  train  or  duck  beneath  the  cow-catcher, 
while  they  challenge  the  coals  and  the  clouds  of  steam.  The 
lithe  purple  toad-flax  is  one  of  these  tough  little  bohemians,  and 
the  tiny  dwarf  dandelion  is  a  favorite  companion. 

The  prospecting  miner  knows  how  the  lime  or  gold  or  zinc 
or  silver  will  blossom  on  the  surface  in  those  "indicative"  flora, 
the  lucrative  resources  of  the  keen -eyed  "  douser,"  and  doubtless 
the  frequent  charm  that  gives  the  dip  to  the  artful  divining-rod. 

Scatter  wood -ashes  almost  anywhere  on  your  lawn,  and  the 
chances  are  that  you  will  receive  thanks  the  following  year  in  the 
breath  of  white  clover,  while  coal -ashes  yield  a  response  in  their 
own  kind,  as  a  casual  botanical  examination  of  vacant  city  lots 
will  attest ;  I  have  found  some  of  the  rarest  though  not  the  most 
beautiful  species  of  our  New  England  flowers  among  those  un- 
sightly ash -heaps. 

Indeed,  let  the  botanist  go  into  new  fields  anywhere,  or  even 
across  lots  by  a  new  path,  and  the  rare  bloom  that  he  has  been 
seeking  all  his  life  is  likely  to  carpet  the  ground  before  him. 

The  beautiful  pansy- like  bird -foot  violet  is  at  best  a  not  very 
common  species,  and  is  often  gregarious;  but  I  once  discovered 
far  up  a  mountain  slope,  where  I  would  as  soon  have  looked  for 
the  Nile  lotus,  a  bed  ten  feet  square  as  blue  as  though  spread 
with  an  azure  silk  counterpane.  I  know  a  certain  sand-hill  that 
is  clothed  in  royal  purple  every  year  with  the  same  flowers,  for 
they  rival  the  harebell  in  their  blue  and  the  aster  in  their  purple; 


THE     WILD     GARDEN.  l^g 

and  a  certain  field  at  Hempstead,  Long  Island,  invites  every  sea- 
son its  select  pilgrimage  to  visit  its  sea  of  bloom.  The  little 
blue -eyed  grass  (Sisyrinchium)  stars  the  meadows  on  sunny  sum- 
mer days,  though  usually  in  a  widely  scattered  galaxy ;  but  during 
a  ride  last  summer  I  was  decoyed  from  my  carriage  across  a  long 
swampy  meadow  by  a  blue  haze  that  seemed  to  hang  over  the 
distant  sedges  —  a  cloud  which  was  soon  dissipated  about  my  feet 
in  a  billion  of  these  tiny  flowers. 

Many  a  wild  botanist  —  for  they  are  all  wild,  wild  in  their 
haunts,  wild  with  delight  and  enthusiasm,  or  else  do  not  deserve 
to  be  called  botanists  —  guards  as  the  apple  of  his  eye  his  orchid 
brood  far  up  in  the  mountain  tamarack  swamp,  or  his  isolated 
Calypso,  or  his  treasury  of  sun -dew  gems,  or  other  precious 
riches.  We  all  "know  a  bank  whereon  the  wild  thyme  blows." 
The  heart  of  Columbus  throbs  in  every  true  botanist's  bosom. 
He  enters  a  new  swamp  or  woods  with  his  heart  in  his  mouth. 
He  is  all  on  tiptoe  with  wonder  and  expectancy.  The  cry  of 
"  Land  ahead !"  is  always  imminent  and  always  realized.  But  the 
seasons  revolutionize  his  observations.  His  autumn  soundings  are 
out  of  date ;  he  must  sail  by  a  new  chart  in  the  spring.  Only 
last  June  I  stood  on  the  shores  of  such  an  unknown  country — a 
large  swampy  wood,  which  I  had  known  only  in  the  season  of 
bare  trees,  when  there  are  few  secrets  in  the  woods.  \Yhat  new 
exaltation  awaits  me  here?  I  mused.  What  new  friend  will  ac- 
company me  as  I  emerge  from  the  other  side  of  the  forest  ?  I 
had  barely  gone  three  steps  when  my  question  was  answered,  be- 
ing confronted  with  a  strange  botanical  shape  which  I  had  never 
seen  before.  We  stood  on  no  formality,  for  the  fame  of  the  indi- 
vidual had  already  gone  before  him,  and  he  assured  me  that  he 
had  been  looking  for  me  these  many  years.  My  new  friend  was 
guised  in  most  singular  botanical  fashion,  and  I  hope  he  did  not 
chance  to  notice  my  smile  at  his  expense.  He  stood  full  four 
feet  high,  holding  above  his  head,  without  the  slightest  seeming 
necessity,  a  large  tropical  umbrella -like  leaf  two  feet  across,  cut 
into  sixteen  drooping  divisions;  and  he  sported  a  flower  tucked 
snugly  in  his  lapel,  which  was  a  singular  choice  indeed  for  a 


i6o 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


boutounrere  —  a  green  hood-like,  tubular  affair,  somewhat  suggest- 
ing a  Jack-in-the-pulpit  or  skunk -cabbage  flower,  about  six  inch- 
es long,  with  a  tapering  green  spadix  projecting  fully  five  inches 
above  the  summit  of  the  pointed  hood,  making  in  all  a  floral  dis- 
play of  nearly  a  foot  in  length.  He  looked  like  a  naturalized 
brave  from  the  tropics,  and,  indeed,  favors 
certain  of  his  Brazilian  kindred. 

Of  course  my  botanical  brethren  will  at 
once  recognize  the  eccentric  blossom,  the 
Dragon  Arum  (Arum  dracontium\  though 
I  imagine  that  few  of  them  have  ever 
chanced  upon  a  finer  individual  than  this, 
my  first,  though  not  my  last  specimen,  for 

I  subsequently  discovered  more. 
^        One  of  our  most  common  orchids, 
though  hardest  to  find  because  of  its 
obscurity,  is    the   O  lacera,  or   ragged 
orchis,  its  inconspicuous  petals  being  cut 
into  a   coarse   fringe.     Various   specimens 
met  me  on  all  sides  among  the  ferns.     For 
years  I  had  vainly  sought  for  the   rare  po- 
gonia (Pogonia  verticillatd]   in   my  walks  — 
not  for  its   beauty,  but  for  its  very  retiring 
qualities ;  for  one  does  not  like  to  feel  that 
perhaps  he  has  every  day  slighted  a  friend 
whose   only  fault  is  her  modesty.     It  is  no 
greater  compliment   to   the   cardinal -flower 
in  that  it   is  hailed  from   afar.     Remember- 
ing that  a  certain   guardian   of  the  secrets 
of  these  woods  had   whispered   to   me   that 
the   pogonia  was  to   be  found   here,  near  a 
certain  turn  in  an  old  wood  road,  I  sought 

the  spot ;  and  there,  in  an  isolated  nook  among  a  thick  growth 
of  medeola,  or  Indian -cucumber,  ginseng,  Solomon's -seal,  wood 
betony,  pale  Indian -pipes,  and  other  wood  growths,  I  came  upon 
the  object  of  my  search  growing  in  profusion,  treading  them 


' 


THE     WILD    GARDEN.  l^l 

underfoot  ere  I  was  aware;  the   imitative  whorled  foliage  of  the 
medeolas   having   beguiled    my   discrimination.      The   secret   was 
safe,  this  secluded   haunt   having  been  selected  as  the  choice  of 
all  the   earth  by  a   nestling  whippoorwill,  which  fluttered     <& 
from  my  feet,  disclosing  her  downy  brood  like  a  spot  of 
mould  down  there  on  the  brown  leaves.     But  my  po- 
gonias  were  long  past  their  prime,  and  I  could  get 
little  idea  of  their  flower.     Here  bloomed,  also,  the 
small  green  orchis  and  the  purple-fringed  orchis, 
the  Uvularias,  and  the  cranesbill  and  loosestrife, 
and  the  Solomon's-seal  with  its  palm-like  spray 
and  drooping  yellowish   pendants,  and  the  An- 
dromeda with  its  chime  of  ten  thousand  bells. 
The   swamp  azalea   shed   a   slight  fragrance 
from  its  remnant  blossoms,  and  offered  its  juicy 
apples  that  to  me  are  never  offered  in  vain. 

That  whispered  password  to  the  pogonia 
opened  the  door  also  to  a  rare  wild-flower 
bed  that  justly  deserves  the  fame  it  has 
won.  All  the  dwellers  of  the  "forest 
ledge "  were  here ;  the  rue  and  maiden- 
hair; the  early  harebells  hung  from 
the  crags  above,  and  continued  the 
dance  which  the  lingering  "  rock-lov- 
ing columbines  "  were  now  bequeath- 
ing; while  the  spotted  leaves  of  liver- 
worts, and  spiry  pods  of  bloodroots,  and  the 
plenteous  foliage  of  rue -anemone,  and  wind- 
flower,  and  matted  beds  of  arbutus,  bore  witness 
of  what  a  rare  May-day  had  been  celebrated  hereabouts,  and 
doubtless  the  sweet  deerberry,  with  its  fragrant  bells,  and  the 
airy  fumitory  were  there,  draping  the  rocks,  could  I  only  have 
happened  their  way. 

The  lofty  gnarled  laurels  ever  and  anon  protested  "no  thor- 
oughfare" as  I  crossed  their  path;  and  once,  having  made  the 
breach,  somewhat  to  the  disparagement  of  my  garments,  I  was 


162 


STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 


met  with  the  applause  of  a  whole  bevy  of  the  rare  blazing-star — 
their  long  spires  of  pure  white  feathery  bloom  standing  sentinel 
over  a  bog  of  considerable  expanse  and  filling  the  adjacent  air 
with  their  almond-like  perfume. 

A  swamp  or  a  bog!  What  a  rallying-cry  to  the  botanist,  and 
what  a  treasure-ground  to  the  wild  -  gardener !  To  say  nothing 
of  the  untold  witnesses  of  extinct  species 
down  deep  in  the  peat,  look  at  the  wealth 
of  the  present  rare  spirits  it  nourishes ! 
Thoreau  has  been  frequently  ridiculed  for 
his  extravagant  expressions.  He  has 
averred,  among  other  things,  that  some 
of  his  happiest  moments  have  been 
spent  while  "  up  to 
.,-^si,  -'  his  eyes  in  the  mud 
of  a  swamp";  and 
it  may  be  said  that 
those  who  cannot  under- 
stand this  are  not  likely  to 
appreciate  much  else  that  he 
has  to  say,  and  are  consequent- 
ly to  be  commiserated.  We  bot- 
anists know  all  about  it.  We  need 
no  commentator  on  this  passage  of  Tho- 
reau's,  which  was  so  plainly  reminiscent  of 
his  eager  wooing  of  Arethusa,  the  sweetest 
nymph  of  the  marshy  mist,  and  who  fre- 
quently exacts  some  such  pleasant  and  willing 
chivalry  as  this  ere  she  will  yield  her  rosy  lip.  Or 
was  it  lovely  Calypso,  her  only  rival  ?  Did  ever 
glimpse  of  the  rarest  caged  exotic  awake  such  a  thrill  as  this 
which  speeds  you  on  through  the  knee -deep  mud  to  lay  your 
rude  hand  upon  her?  I  have  known  even  a  lesser  light  to  pre- 
cipitate a  similar  impetuosity.  There  among  the  reeds  it  lifts  its 
feathery  cylinder  of  purple  blooms ;  another  and  another  reveal 
themselves  among  the  calamus  and  blueflags  and  galingales  as 


THE     WILD     GARDEN.  ^ 

you  proceed,  half  dazed  in  the  witching  fragrance,  which  hangs 
like  incense  in  the  evening  mist — an  aromatic  perfume  giving 
no  hint  of  any  other  flower,  unless,  perhaps,  the  witch-hazel.  It 
is  an  event  to  date  from,  this  first  victory  over  Calypso,  Arethu- 
sa,  or  even  the  purple -fringed  orchid,  just  described  —  not  that 
the  latter  is  so  great  a  rarity  as  the  others ;  but,  then,  it  is  an 
ORCHID. 

Indeed,  what  is  that  occult  attribute  of  an  orchid  which  should 
so  differentiate  it  in  our  fancy  from  all  the  floral  tribe  ?  Long  be- 
fore I  had  heard  of  Darwin,  except  as  a  name,  I  had  been  brought 
beneath  their  spell. 

What  wild -flower  hunter  can  ever  forget  his  first  glimpse  of 
the  white  cypripedium  sunning  its  snowy  cup  far  out  in  the  cin- 
namon ferns  or  brakes,  or  its  yellow  counterpart  in  the  dark 
woods,  or  the  common  moccasin -flower  of  the  hemlocks,  or  the 
rattlesnake  plantain,  which  divulged  its  orchidaceous  spirit  to  me 
long  before  I  knew  its  name,  and  whose  unique  reticulated  leaf 
has  always  haunted  my  fancy  as  a  futile  reminder  of  something 
which  will  not  be  recalled  —  a  relic  of  the  old  Adam  within  me, 
perhaps  ? 

Calypso  and  Arethusa  are  often  found  in  questionably  queer 
company;  indeed,  to  the  lovers  of  the  eccentric  our  flora  affords 
quite  a  variety  show.  The  botanical  enthusiast  who  has  never 
found  the  side -saddle -flower  or  pitcher -plant  has  a  sensation  in 
store  for  him.  I  recall  one  such  notable  swamp ;  it  nestles  in  a 
huge  bowl  on  the  side  of  Black  Mountain,  Lake  George,  a  quak- 
ing sphagnum  bog  closing  in  around  a  tiny  lake.  I  make  no 
hesitation  in  placarding  the  haunt,  not  only  because  its  inaccessi- 
bility protects  it,  but  because  its  army  is  more  than  a  match  for 
the  whole  tribe  of  vandals. 

I  had  heard  for  some  time  as  a  sort  of  tradition  of  .a  certain 
impassable  bog  nestling  somewhere  towards  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  where  brimming  pitchers  were  offered  to  all  guests,  and 
one  day,  like  Rip  Van  Winkle,  I  determined  to  sample  the  good 
cheer.  With  what  meagre  directions  I  .could  obtain  I  mounted 
my  mustang  and  set  out.  For  the  first  mile  the  path  was  clear, 


1 64  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

• 

but  thereafter  I  was  obliged  to  hitch  my  horse  and  follow  an 
unblazed  trail,  through  overgrown  wood  roads  and  over  moss- 
grown  rocks  and  fallen  trees,  until  I  soon  completely  lost  my 
way,  my  progress  being  further  besieged  by  every  conceivable 
sort  of  mountain  bloom  to  tempt  my  loitering. 

But  I  must  have  scented  my  goal  unknown  from  afar,  and  at 
length,  after  a  hard  scramble,  was  rewarded  with  a  glimpse  of  it 
through  the  trees.  It  was  the  first  real  important  mountain  bog 
that  I  had  visited.  I  was  prepared  for  a  surprise,  but  it  came  in 
a  shape  unsuspected.  Almost  my  first  glimpse  had  offered  me  a 
puzzle  as  I  looked  down  upon  the  tarn  beneath  the  crags,  its 
broad  shores  impurpled  with  a  composite  hue  whose  elements  ! 
could  not  guess.  With  eager  approach  I  was  soon  penetrating 
the  border  jungle  of  clethra,  Cassandra,  and  bay — as  I  now  recall 
them — whose  roots  were  embedded  in  the  cushioned  sphagnum; 
and  having  passed  the  guard,  emerged  to  find  myself  in  a  sea  of 
purple  pitcher-plants;  no  beggarly  cluster  of  the  hot-house,  but 
a  compact  throng,  extending,  I  had  almost  said,  for  acres  on  all 
sides,  each  cluster  crowding  among  its  fellows,  and  presided  over 
by  its  company  of  strange  nodding  lurid  blossoms,  and  all  im- 
pacted in  the  dense  moss. 

It  was  some  little  time  before  I  regained  my  composure  suffi- 
ciently to  scrape  acquaintance  with  my  new  friends,  who  seemed 
very  hospitably  inclined,  literally  dancing  on  all  sides  at  my  ap- 
proach on  the  quaking  bog,  and  at  length  becoming  very  com- 
municative, drenching  my  feet  at  every  step  with  the  anointing 
from  their  brimming  amphorae. 

I  remember  turning  the  averted  face  of  the  blossom,  and  won- 
dering whether  I  could  ever  coax  it  to  divulge  to  me  the  mystery 
of  that  singular  large  disk-shaped  stigma  which  covers  a  well-kept 
secret  not  yet  disclosed  to  the  analyst. 

Those  conscious,  thinking  pitchers,  too,  artful  pitfalls,  each 
with  its  disintegrating  mass  of  insect  victims!  That  net- work  of 
turgid  lurid  veins  upon  the  hollow  leaf  seems  a  fitting  commentary 
on  their  carnivorous  lives!  Examination  of  these  pitchers  dis- 
closed another  fact  which  has  probably  been  noted  before,  but  of 


THE     WILD     GARDEN. 


which  I  had  never  read—  that  the  insect  prisoners  were  not  all 
victims,  almost  every  pitcher  disclosing  one,  two,  or  three  larva 
which  were  entirely  proof  against  the  digestive  arts  of  the  leaf, 
and  which  in  reality  robbed  the  latter  of  its  rightful  prey.  These 
larvae  I  soon  discovered  to  be  those  of  a  peculiar  fly,  doubtless  a 
distinct  species  dependent  upon  the  pitcher-plant,  the  transfor- 
mation being  completed  in  the  pitchers,  wherein  I  found  their 
chrysalides  ;  and  at  length,  after  much  search,  my  conjectures  were 
verified  by  the  discovery  of  a  newly  hatched  fly 
creeping  up  the  dangerous  tube,  which  had  de- 
fied the  escape  of  less  knowing  insects  —  an  ac- 
complishment for  which  I  doubt  not  he  had 
been  especially  equipped  by  nature. 

Another  conspicuous  eccentricity  is 
the  Monotropa  (we  have  been  treated 
to  the   beaker,  here   is   the   pipe   as 
well),  that  pallid  child  of  the  dank 
woods    that    might   well  pass  for  a 
fungus  did  we  not  know  that  it  carries 
a  flower  as   botanically  perfect  ,  as  the 
laurel  or  the  pyrola  or  any  other  of  the 
great  Heath  family,  to  which  it  belongs. 

No  discourse  upon  our  notable  wild 
flowers  would  be  complete  without  re- 
calling the  foxglove,  whose  tall  sprays 
of  tubular  blossoms  light  up  many  a  dark  nook 
in  the  woods,  and  whose  pure,  even  color  always 
suggests  to  me  the  canary,  even  as  the  cardinal- 
flower  invariably  brings  another  ornithological 
parallel.  Is  it  not  to  our  flowers  what  the  scar- 
let tanager  is  to  our  birds?  But  even  as  the  tanager  must  yield 
the  crown,  as  it  were,  to  the  tiny  kinglet  whose  olive  crest  con- 
ceals the  crowning  touch  of  purest  red  among  all  our  native 
plumage,  so  must  the  cardinal  make  his  prettiest  bow  to  the  hum- 
ble painted-cup,  which  boasts  the  brightest  dab  of  red  the  wild 
palette  can  show. 


SNEEZE-WEED. 


1 66  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

"Scarlet  tufts 

Are  glowing  in  the  green,  like  flakes  of  fire  ; 
The  wanderers  of  the  prairie  know  them  well, 
And  call  that  brilliant  flower  the  painted -cup,' 


sings  Bryant  of  a  Western  species.  But  on  second  thought  per- 
haps the  cardinal  may  still  retain  his  prestige  on  a  technicality, 
for,  strictly  speaking,  the  "brilliant  flower"  of  the  painted-cup  is  a 
misnomer.  The  actual  blossom  is  an  inconspicuous  affair,  but  it 
wears  a  gorgeous  cape  and  mantle  which  have  apparently  been 
dipped  half  way  in  the  rarest  of  brilliant  dyes,  the  color  being  in 
truth  displayed  upon  the  floral  leaves  rather  than  on  the  flowers. 

What  a  fine  pure  yellow  is  that  of  the  toad-flax !  But  our 
finest  and  most  conspicuous  yellows  are  among  the  golden- rods 
and  sunflowers  and  their  kin  of  rudbeckias  and  sneeze -weeds. 
The  finest  orange  flaunts  in  the  bloom  of  the  butterfly-weed 
(Asclepias  tuberosa}.  The  asters  "Amethystinus  "  and  Nova  AngUc 
wear  the  choicest  purple,  and  in  the  tiny  forget-me-not  we  find  a 
touch  of  pure  prismatic  blue,  which  nature  has  here  economized 
as  in  a  turquoise ;  its  like  is  nowhere  repeated  in  our  flora. 

I  know  of  few  finer  and  more  harmonious  displays  of  color  to 
be  found  in  the  whole  wild  garden  than  is  afforded  by  a  bed  of 
blue  lupines  — a  typical  bed,  such  as  I  have  in  mind,  with  their 
dense  foliage  and  spires  of  bloom  thrown  in  bold  relief  against  a 
background  of  sunlit  sand.  It  is  worth  a  ten-mile  walk  to  see 
one  such  bed  in  its  prime.  "  Blue  lupine "  it  is  called,  but  it 
rings  the  changes  on  the  sapphire  tints,  and  lays  the  amethyst  in 
tribute  as  well,  with  its  infinite  variety,  from  deepest  purple  to 
palest  pink  or  white,  and  in  its  perfect  complementary  contrast  of 
the  background  of  sunny  sand  affords  a  rare  harmony  of  color. 

That  is  a  fine  sample  of  maroon  velvet  which  the  ground-nut 
(Apios  tuberosa)  blossom  holds  within  its  heart.  You  will  find  it 
on  no  other  petal.  This  ground-nut  blossom  is  one  of  the  most 
powerfully  fragrant  of  our  native  wild  flowers,  exhaling  a  perfume 
somewhat  suggesting  that  of  the  wild  grape,  and  both  of  which 
bring  reminders  of  mignonette. 


THE     WILD     GARDEN. 


I67 


What  a  delicious  occasional  whiff  is   this  which  greets  us  at 
the  portal  of  the  early  July  woods!  and  what  a  pleasant  anticipa- 
tion it  brings :  the  welcome  of  the 
pyrolas,  which  now  hold  the  syl- 
van   censer    unchal- 
lenged—for the  arbu- 
tus and  showy  orchis 
and    moccasin -flower 
and  squirrel-corn 


have   had  their  day,  and 
the   nodding  bells   of  the  twin- 
flower  have  rung  themselves  out. 
Emerson 

"  Saw  beneath  dim  aisles,  in  odorous  beds. 
The  slight  Linnaea  hang  its  twin-born  heads," 

and  how  many  a  saunterer  has  felt  his  heart 
leap  into  his  throat  as  he  suddenly  came  upon 


168  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

a  cluster  of  the  sweet  pink  flowers  in  the  woods !  But  these 
"  odorous  beds "  are  strewn  with  the  pale  pink  bells  when  the 
pyrolas  come  upon  the  scene,  and  the  tiny  creeping- twins  of  the 
fragrant  partridge -vine  hardly  make  their  lisps  known  as  against 
the  more  asserting  presence  of  the  pyrolas.  It  is  hard  to  speak 
in  moderation  of  these  perennial  woodland  plants.  There  are 
four  or  five  of  them  in  more  or  less  constant  association,  all  with 
their  lily- of -the -valley  breath. 

The  pyrola  is  the  perennial  hostess  of  the  groves.  She  does 
the  honors  at  all  seasons.  Go  into  the  woods  at  any  time  and 
you  are  sure  of  her.  Even  in  the  bleakest  winter's  day  how  do 
her  spires  of  seed-pods  and  her  fresh,  lusty  leaves  against  the 
snow  quicken  our  pulses  and  bring  back  the  summer !  The 
shin-leaf,  with  its  light  green  foliage  of  spring  suggesting  a  tiny 
clump  of  lettuce,  is  perhaps  the  most  omnipresent  of  the  group; 
but  the  two  pipsissewas,  known  as  the  princess  pine  and  spotted 
wintergreen — the  former  with  its  rich  green,  highly  polished  leaf, 
and  the  latter  dull  of  surface  but  conspicuously  veined  with  white 
— are  perhaps  the  most  beautiful,  and  with  their  reptilian  com- 
panions of  rattlesnake  hawkweed  and  rattlesnake  plantain,  form  a 
notable  quartet  of  lowly  foliaged  plants. 

Who  has  gathered  the  complete  posy  of  our  fragrant  wild 
flowers  ?  I  have  not  yet  chanced  to  see  a  list  that  pretended  to 
include  them  all.  My  own  list  I  thought  complete  long  ago,  but 
every  year  adds  its  fresh  item.  Here  it  is  up  to  date — confined, 
especially,  to  our  New  England  flora — and  with  apologies  to  the 
slighted  ones : 

FRAGRANT    FLOWERS. 

HERBS   AND    UNDER-SHRUBS. 

Trailing  arbutus  (Epigaa  repens).  White  clover  (  Trifolium  repens), 
Dutchman's  Breeches  (Dicentra  Canaden-          Buffalo  clover  (  Trifolium  reflexum), 

sis).  Yellow  melilot  (Melilotus  officinalis}, 

Partridge-vine  (Mitchella  repens).  White  melilot  (Melilotus  alba), 

Evening  primrose  (GLnothera  biennis),  Lucern  (Medicago  sativd), 

Ground-nut  (Apios  tuberosd).  Twin-flower  (Linncca  borealis), 

Toad-flax  (Linaria  vulgaris),  Pine-sap  (Monotropa  hypopitys), 

Moth  mullein  (  Verbascum  blattaria).  False  wintergreen  (Pyrola  rotundifolia), 

Red  clover  (  Trifolium  pratense}.  Shin-leaf  (Pyrola  ellipticd), 


THE     WILD     GARDEN. 


l6o 


Small  pyro\3i(Pyrola  chlorantha), 
Pipsissewa  (Chimaphila  itmbellatd), 
May-apple  (Podophylluni  peltatum), 
Water-lily  (Nymphcca  odor  at  a), 
Devil's-bit  (Chamcclirium  luteum), 
*False  Solomon's-seal  (Smilacina  stellata), 
Small  smilacina  (Smilacina  bifolid), 
Three-leaved  smilacina  (Smilacina  trif  olid), 
Starry  smilacina  (Smilacina  stellata), 
Purple  fringed  orchis  (Platanthera  psy- 

codes), 

Arethusa  (Arcthnsa  bulbosd), 
Calopogon  (Calopogon  pitlchellus), 
Pogonia  (Pogonia  ophioglossoides), 
Lady's-tresses  (Spirant hes  cernuci), 
Moccasin-flower  (Cypripedium  acaule), 
Yellow  lady's-slipper  (Cypripedium  par- 

vifloruiii) , 

Showy  orchis  (Orchis  spectabilis), 
Coral-root  (Corallorhiza  miiltiflora), 


*Hairy  loosestrife  (Lysimachia  ciliata), 
Milk-weed  (Asclepias  cornuti}, 
Dog-bane  (Apocymtm  androscemifoliuni), 

"Liverwort  (Hepatica  trilobd), 
Everlasting  (Gnaphalium  polycephalunf), 
Sweet  colt'sfoot  (Nardosmia  palmetto), 
Broad-leaved  golden-rod  (Solidago  lati- 
folia), 

*  Dandelion  (Taraxacum  dens  leonis), 
Pasture  thistle  (Cirsium  pumilnm}, 
Sweet  scabious  (Erigeron  anmiuni), 
Peppermint  (Mentha piper ita}, 
Horned  pondweed  (Utrictdaria  cornntd), 
Dewberry  (Rubus  Canadensis), 

*Ground-nut  (Aralia  trif  olid), 
Yellow  bedstraw  (Galium  veruui}, 
White  violet  (  Viola  blanda*), 

*  Canada  violet  (Viola  Canadensis), 
*Spurred  violet  (Viola  Sclkirki), 

Yellow  violet  (  Viola  rotundifolia~). 


SHRUBS  AND   TREES. 


White  alder  (Clethra  alnifolia), 
Sweet  bay  (Magnolia  glancd), 
Deerberry  ( Vacciniiun  stamineiim), 
White  azalea  (Azalea  viscosa), 
Smooth  azalea  (Azalea  arborescens), 
Pi nxter- flower  (Azalea  nndiflord), 
Swamp   blueberry  (Vaccinium  corymbo- 

Stini), 
Dwarf  blueberry  (  Vaccinium  Pennsyha- 

nicimf), 

''Huckleberry  (Gaylussacia  rcsinosd), 
Witch-hazel  (Hammamclis  Virginiand), 
Flowering  raspberry  (Rubus  odoratus), 
Wild-rose  (Rosa  nitida), 
Wild-rose  (Rosa  lucida). 


Eglantine  (Rosa  rubiginosa), 
Smaller  sweetbrier  (Rosa  micranthd), 
Fox-grape  (Vitis  labrusca), 
Summer-grape  ( Vitis  ccstivalis), 
Frost-grape  ( Vitis  cordifolid), 
White-thorn  (Cratcegits  coccined), 
Wild-cherry  (Prunus  serotind), 
*  Elder  (Sambiicus  Canadensis), 
Honeysuckle  (Lonicera grata), 
Sugar-maple  (Acer  saccharinuni), 
Linden  (Tilia  Americana), 
Locust  (Robinia pseudacacia), 
Locust  (Robinia  viscosa), 
Apple  (Pynts  mains), 
Willow  (?). 


In  this  list,  numbering  a  total  of  eighty-two  species,  I  have 
included  a  few  blossoms  that  may  be  provoked  into  a  mild  in- 
cense; the  common  thistle,  for  instance,  if  we  take  it  as  the 
humblebee  does.  Of  the  omitted,  the  mountain-laurel,  or  sheep- 
laurel,  and  various  species  of  whortleberry,  will  often  yield  a  per- 
ceptible odorous  response  to  a  vigorous  sniff.  Doubtless,  too,  the 
two  unnamed  pyrolas  are  sweet-scented,  had  I  thought  to  test 


jyo  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

them.  I  have  included  the  hepatica  mainly  on  the  witness  of 
other  noses  than  my  own,  it  never  having  revealed  to  me  an 
odor  entitled  to  the  distinction  of  fragrance;  certainly  no  more 
so  than  the  bloodroot  and  wind-flower  (Anemone  nemorosd),  which 
have  a  breath  but  not  a  perfume.  The  inflorescence  of  the  sweet 
golden-rod  (Solidago  odora)  emits  a  distinct  scent  from  that  of  its 
leaves,  and  various  others  of  the  mints  than  that  mentioned  yield 
a  sweet  blossom-breath  which  is  lost  in  the  aroma  of  their  foliage. 
I  have  drawn  the  line  at  the  secretive  blooms,  referring  mainly 
to  such  spontaneous  communicative  examples  as  are  wont 

"to  bud  out  faire  and  throwe  their  sweete  smels  all  arownd." 

A  few  which  I  have  marked  with  a  star  may  be  supplemented 
with  a  few  words ;  the  dandelion,  for  instance,  without  even  re- 
sorting to  the  humblebee  fashion  of  smelling,  even  as  you  recline 
near  it,  yields  a  readily  perceptible  and  pleasant  odor.  The  gin- 
seng ground-nut  and  moth  mullein  are  or  are  not  odorous  accord- 
ing to  their  whim.  I  have  given  four  species  of  violets,  only  two 
of  which  are  commonly  accorded  perfume,  V.  blanda  and  V.  Can- 
adensis.  The  yellow  species,  so  feelingly  commemorated  in  Bry- 
ant's poem,  is  included  here  in  honor  of  the  poet,  who  detected  its 
"  faint  perfume  in  the  virgin  air  "  of  April,  but  which  has  as  yet 
brought  no  such  sweet  message  to  me.  As  to  the  V.  Selkirki,  I 
confess  to  a  venture  as  to  title,  having  ascribed  that  name  to  a 
specimen  which  was  brought  to  me  in  Williamstown,  Mass.,  late 
in  October,  several  years  ago,  and  which,  undetermined  at  the 
time  in  the  absence  of  my  botany,  was  without  doubt  the  species 
credited.  It  was  larger  by  considerable  than  any  other  of  our  wild 
violets,  with  the  possible  exception  of  the  bird-foot  (V.pedata),  and 
its  other  characters  plainly  referred  it  to  the  species  given.  But 
in  addition  it  exhaled  a  fragrance  almost  equal  to  the  delicious 
English  species,  and  in  this  respect  far  surpassed  either  of  our 
two  other  fragrant  violets.  I  shall  always  regret  that  circum- 
stances prevented  my  seeking  the  plant  in  its  habitat  and  secur- 
ing its  seed,  for  no  such  fragrant  violet  is  accredited  to  our  flora. 


The    toad -flax    may 
or  may  not  be  fragrant 
according  to  the  season. 
The   late   autumn  blos- 
soms are  generally  faintly 
odorous,  but  a  cluster  of  the 
earliest  bloom  is  redolent.    The 
larger   Smilacina    is    also    some- 
what whimsical.    Perhaps  the  too 
fastidious  nostril   might  take  ex- 
ception to  the  elder  and  the  cor- 
al-root as  hardly  entitled  to  the 

attribute    of  fragrance,  relegating  them  >to   a  front  seat,  perhaps, 
among  a  scented  group  deservedly  in  bad  odor,  and  which,  more- 


A   FRAGRANT   GROUP  ("PYROLAS"). 


I72  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

over,  make  up  in  quantity  what  they  lack  in  quality — the  chestnut, 
stramonium,  meadow-rue,  skunk-cabbage,  and  carrion -flower — the 
latter  of  which,  with  its  clambering  green  brier  and  beautiful  glossy 
heart-shaped  leaves  and  spherical  clusters  of  fringy  flowers,  must 
be  seen  only  to  be  enjoyed,  to  speak  paradoxically.  In  other  words, 
it  is  more  enjoyably  viewed  from  the  windward,  otherwise  we  may 
readily  appreciate  the  expressive  impeachment  of  the  discriminat- 
ing little  girl  who  gave  it  the  name  of  the  "Oh  phew!  flower." 

Of  the  blossom  odors  which  possess  the  breeze,  perhaps  the 
wild-grape  is  the  most  redolent,  its  powerful  mignonette-like  fra- 
grance often  filling  some  secluded  bower  in  the  woods  like  incense. 
The  pretty  chime  of  bells  of  the  deerberry  ring  out  a  sweet  cur- 
few in  the  twilight  woods,  and  the  fringy  white  spire  of  the  blaz- 
ing-star, already  mentioned,  or  devil's-bit,  as  it  is  also  called  — 
though  the  gods  only  know  why — deserves  credit  for  a  sweet  al- 
mond-like perfume  which  I  have  never  seen  credited. 

How  have  we  hypercritical  sticklers  for  truth  stumbled  upon 
that  shy  "  yellow  violet "  of  Bryant's  verse  ! 

He  apostrophizes  it  as  the  avant-courriere  of  spring: 

"  Of  all  its  train  the  hands  of  Spring 
First  plant  thee  in  the  watery  mould." 

He  opens  the  season  of  Flora  with  this  flower.  According  to 
him  the  gentle  goddess  takes  her  first  vernal  peep  through  the 
"  gentle  eye  "  of  the  yellow  violet,  even  braving 

"  the  snowbank's  edges  cold," 

and  her  last — as  she  "nods"  to  sleep — through  the  "sweet  and 
quiet  eye  "  of  the  fringed  gentian,  of  which  he  says : 

"Thou  waitest  late  and  com'st  alone 
When  woods  are  bare  and  birds  are  flown, 
And  frosts  and  shortening  days  portend 
The  aged  year  is  at  an  end." 


THE     WILD     GARDEN.  ^ 

And  again  in  his  "  November  "  : 

"The  blue  gentian's  flower  that  in  the  breeze 
Nods  lonely,  of  her  beauteous  race  the  last." 

I  have  sincerely  tried  to  verify  these  specific  statements — all 
but  the  "nod"  —  and  must  admit  without  success;  but  then  per- 
haps I  have  not  yet  happened  to  find  that  particular  sunny  slope 
of  Parnassus  which  the  poet  discovered  all  by  himself.  No,  the 
truth  must  be  met  though  Pegasus  foam  and  cavort  with  incense, 
that  of  all  her  train  the  first  flower  that  is  planted  in  the  watery 
mould  by  the  hands  of  Spring  is  the  skunk -cabbage,  and  the 
bees  know  it  and  gather  sweets  from  it  even  though  the  poets 
do  not.  The  swamp -cabbage  flower  literally  breaks  the  ice  in 
the  reconciliation  of  the  warring  forces  of  Boreas  and  Phoebus. 
But  if  the  too  fastidious  must  needs  rule  out  this  plebeian  of  the 
bog  simply  because  he  does  not  appear  to  advantage  in  a  button- 
hole, what  then?  What  a  brood  of  wood  blooms  stand  ready  to 
look  down  on  him  as  they  usurp  his  place !  The  incomparable 
arbutus,  darling  of  the  mould;  the  airy  rue-anemone;  the  wind- 
flower,  with  its  white  saucers  or  pink  drooping  bells ;  the  rock- 
flower — a  tiny  white  boutonniere  in  itself ;  the  liverwort ;  the 
downy  dwarf  everlasting;  the  bloodroot,  with  ruddy  pulse;  the 
squirrel-corn,  redolent  of  hyacinth ;  the  colt'sfoot,  with  its  ginger 
roots,  and  the  pale  spring  beauty,  to  say  nothing  of  the  whitlow- 
flower  and  dandelion.  Which  one  shall  wear  the  stolen  pennant? 
What  change  of  heart  has  now  come  over  our  beloved  poet  of 
the  violet?  What  is  the  testimony  of  his  later  years  in  his 
"Winter  Piece"  as  he  seeks  for  the  first  heralds  of  spring? 


"  Lodged  in  a  sunny  cleft 

Where  the  cold  breezes  come  not,  blooms  alone 
The  little  wind-flower,  whose  just  opened  eye 
Is  blue  as  the  spring  heaven  it  gazes  at — 
Startling  the  loiterer  in  the  naked  groves 
With  unexpected  beauty,  for  the  time 
Of  blossoms  and  green  leaves  is  yet  afar." 


!74  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

There  is  no  "yellow  violet"  here;  but  as  the  "wind-flower"  is 
never  "  blue,"  and  the  hepatica  often  is,  it  was  of  course  the 
latter  flower  that  really  "blossomed  alone"  amid  these  lingering 
snows. 

In  further  justice  to  our  poet,  who  evidently  discovered  the 
error  of  his  early  botanical  ways,  let  me  turn  to  his  chronicle  of 
the  Twenty-seventh  of  March,  written  several  years  later  again,  as 
opposed  to  his  April  "yellow  violet": 

"  When  March,  just  ready  to  depart,  begins 
To  soften  into  April,  .  .  .  within  the  woods 
Tufts  of  ground- laurel  creeping  underneath 
The  leaves  of  the  last  summer,  send  their  sweets 
Up  to  the  chilly  air,  and  by  the  oak 
The  squirrel -cups,  a  graceful  company, 
Hide  in  their  bells  a  soft  aerial  blue" — 

a  passage  which  truly  holds  the  mirror  up  to  nature,  and  disarms 
our  censorship.  Such  is  the  sunny  spot  in  the  April  woods  that 
we  all  know  so  well,  his  " squirrel- cups  "  being  identical  with  the 
intended  hepaticas  of  his  previous  passage,  and  whose  blossoms 
the  yellow  violet  rarely  sees  in  their  prime. 

It  is  to  the  hepatica,  then,  that  Flora  intrusts  the  first  greeting 
to  the  returning  birds,  and  the  bards  leaving  the  lowly  "cabbage"- 
head  to  entertain  the  frogs  and  lizards,  bees  and  flies. 

Thoreau,  in  one  of  his  books,  pretends  to  give  precise  dates 
for  the  turning  of  the  leaves  in  autumn — a  task  as  idle  as  to  fore- 
cast the  debut  of  the  flowers ;  for  while  the  order  and  association 
in  a  given  neighborhood  is  probably  identical  from  year  to  year, 
the  eccentric  conditions  of  American  weather  are  wont  to  con- 
found our  oracles.  In  the  past  season,  for  instance,  the  early 
flowers  were  two  weeks  ahead  all  along  the  line — the  New  Eng- 
land line,  at  least.  In  ordinary  seasons  I  have  frequently  picked 
the  little  rock  -  saxifrage  (Saxifraga  Virg^)  in  early  April  almost 
frozen  with  the  cold;  and  long  before  the  bloodroots  and  rue- 
anemone  and  wind-flowers  —  a  congenial  trio  —  were  out;  and  the 
little  silky-leaved  everlasting  (Antennaria  plantaginifolia]  has  not 


THE     WILD     GARDEN.  ^c 

won  the  tribute  it  deserves  as  an  early  riser,  vying  with  the  he- 
patica,  as  it  does,  in  its  anticipation  of  spring.  I  have  gathered 
it,  with  its  compact  tiny  cushions  ot  bloom  on  the  naked  stems 
barely  two  inches  high,  in  early  March,  when  it  had  plainly  stolen 
a  march  on  the  liverworts  in  its  immediate  vicinity.  But  I  have 
never  chanced  to  pick  it  beneath  the  snow,  which  I  have  done 
with  both  the  arbutus  and  hepatica,  having  found  a  ruddy  cluster 
of  the  former  as  early  as  February.  But  the  following  experi- 
ence, quoted  from  a  letter  from  a  friend  bearing  date  of  January 
25,  1887,  Boston,  as  far  as  I  know  beats  the  record  in  driving 
back  the  vernal  bloom  towards  the  season  of  the  asters,  and 
which,  greeting  the  festal  flags  of  the  December  witch -hazels, 
carries  the  possible  wild-flower  garland  all  round  the  calendar: 

"  The  Qth  of  December,"  writes  my  friend,  "  Mr.  ,  my  wife's 

father,  said  to  me  that  he  felt  quite  confident  that  he  could  go 
to  the  woods  in  Melrose  and  bring  home  hepatica  blossoms.  I 
had  found  them  myself  in  January,  but  it  was  after  a  week  or 
more  of  warm  weather,  with  the  ground  bare  of  snow.  In  this 
case,  however,  a  foot  or  more  of  snow  had  fallen  a  day  or  two 
before,  preceded  by  icy  cold  weather ;  so  I  said,  '  No,'  not  sup- 
posing he  had  any  thought  of  putting  his  confidence  to  the  test. 
But  he  took  the  train,  went  directly  to  the  spot  where  grew  a 
cluster  of  plants  which  he  well  knew,  dug  away  the  snow,  picked 
an  open  blossom,  and  brought  it  home." 

In  the  same  letter  my  observant  friend  continues:  "A  year 
ago,  in  taking  a  walk  from  Fabyan's  to  the  Crawford  House,  I 
discovered  a  plant  of  meadow-rue  (Thalictrum  cornuti]  having 
purple  blossoms.  A  very  distinct  variety  it  seemed  to  me  —  a 
very  decided  color;  not  so  soft  and  graceful  as  the  blossoms  of 
the  white,  but  having  a  quite  pleasing  effect.  The  stem  of  the 
plant  was  also  of  a  dark  color.  You  may  be  sure  I  was  surprised 
and  delighted,  as  I  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  I  took  the 
root  to  add  to  my  collection  of  native  plants  growing  in  my  gar- 
den. Last  summer  the  plant  blossomed  handsomely.  I  took  the 
flowers  to  Horticultural  Hall,  but  no  one  there  had  ever  seen 
them,  and  no  description  or  allusion  can  I  find  in  any  botany.  I 


176  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

have  also  found  a  clump  of  fire -weed  plants  which  have  pure 
white  blossoms,  which  I  have  plucked  for  three  years.  I  have 
come  across  no  one  who  has  ever  seen  the  like — have  you?" 

Yes,  my   friend,  I    have.      There   are   a   whole 
brood  of  them.     Their  whiteness  is  only  skin-deep, 
for   they   are    the   black    sheep    in    Dame    Nature's 
household.     But  she  discountenances  their  pranks, 
and,  as  a  rule,  stirs  herself  to  head  off  their  mis- 
chief.    It  must  be   admitted,  too,  that  they  occa- 
sionally put  on  a  very  pretty  face  to 
cover  their  waywardness,  and    their 
lives   would    prove    harmless    if   the 
evil  "culturists"  would  only  cease  to 
play  the  devil  with  them ;   for   it  is 
from  scions  such  as  these  that  our 
prized  "varieties"  are  begotten.     In 
a   burned   mountainous    tract   I   once 
found    a    number    of   white   Epilobium 
such  as  my  friend  describes,  and  I  have 
met    with    them    occasionally    since    in    my 
walks.     It  is  a  lapse  in  the  plant  that  is  im- 
itated   in    various    other    species  —  abnormal 
freaks,  analogous    to   the   albino   among   ani- 
mals, which  is  recognized  as  a  degenerate  type. 
For  years  I  saw  from  my  studio  window  an  al- 
^•'     /  most  pure  white  English  sparrow.     I  have  seen  a 

^>_  '  white   robin,  a  very  pale   bluebird,  and   even    as   I 

write  a  snowy  pink -eyed  squirrel  is  roving  among 
the  trees  near  my  country  home. 

In  addition  to  the  fire-weeds,  I  have  found  albinos 
of   red   clover,   closed   gentian,  purple -flowering   rasp- 
berry, blueflag,  burdock,  purple  Eupatorium,  lupine,  blue 
violet,  and  bird-foot  violet,  and  have  heard  of  a  white 
cardinal-flower  and  white  fire-lily.     But  the  prettiest  of  all   these 
wayward  children  is  the  white-fringed  gentian.     I  know  a  certain 
plant  which  every  year  sends  up  its  candelabra  of  snowy  blossoms, 


FIRE-LIMES. 


THE     WILD     GARDEN.  !77 

and  will  continue  so   to  do   if  my  friends  the  vandals   will  only 
be  content  to 

"love  the  flower, 
And  leave  it  on  its  stalk  " : 


for  at  best,  and  to  be  consistent,  I  cannot  feel  that  Nature  will 
long  countenance  its  existence,  and  fain  would  I  see  it  die  a  nat- 
ural death.  There  is  a  long  list  of  similar  exceptions  to  tempt 
the  curious  scientific  eye  to  be  found  in  our  walks.  The  purple 
meadow-rue  of  my  friend  is  by  no  means  as  rare  a  find  as  he 
imagines.  He  has  simply  happened  to  miss  it.  Almost  any  fa- 
vorite habitat  of  the  plant  will  disclose  its  purple  specimen.  Pink 
yarrow  and  pink  wild -carrot  are  also  frequently  to  be  met  with, 
in  the  latter  case  that  customary  purple-black  floret  in  the  centre 
of  the  white  bloom  seeming  to  have  dissolved  like  pigment  and 
spread  throughout  the  saucer. 

I  once  found  a  blueflag  plant  upon  which  nearly  all  the  flow- 
ers were  four- parted  instead  of  three,  as  in  the  true  type ;  and 
singularly  enough,  on  examination,  I  found  that  the  only  pod 
which  had  approached  maturity  was  empty,  its  seeds  having  been 
devoured  by  a  caterpillar.  "Mere  chance?"  say  you.  Well,  we 
cannot  decide  that  point.  No  derision  shall  change  my  faith 
that  this  caterpillar  had  a  special  mission  to  fulfil. 

One  of  the  rarest  of  all  these  freaks  came  to  my  notice  for 
the  first  time  this  summer  in  a  singular  specimen  of  the  Indian- 
pipe,  and  one  which  it  would  seem  has  thus  far  escaped  the  bot- 
anist. It  was  not  the  "  pale  pipe  "  which  we  all  know,  but  from 
root  to  summit  was  of  a  deep  crimson  color,  the  petals  being 
tipped  with  bright  yellow.  Its  botanical  characters  referred  it  to 
the  ordinary  species  (Monotropa  imiflora},  the  more  notable  dis- 
tinction besides  the  color  being  a  fine  close  down,  which  was  in 
decided  contrast  to  the  glossy  smoothness  of  the  ordinary  form. 

It  was   doubtless   a   mere  "variety"  and   not  a   new  species, 

and  suggests  the  speculation  as  to  which  of  the  two  forms  is  the 

true  type:    whether  this  ruddy  individual   may  not  be  a   sturdy, 

faithful    remnant   of  the   ancestral   stock,   and    the   pale   uncanny 

23 


lj&  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

"corpse  plant"  of  the  dark  woods  a  degenerate  penitent  which, 
for  some  unpardonable  lapse  from  grace  in  the  past,  has  immo- 
lated itself  to  the  sombre  life  of  an  anchorite.  I  half  suspect 
that  the  "ghost-flower"  might  even  yet  be  reclaimed;  that  a  few 
successive  generations  reared  against  their  will,  in  the  light  of 
day,  might  once  more  restore  the  ruddy  pulse,  and  revive  the 
bloom  and  crimson  flush  of  health.  I  sought  the  open  woods  in 
which  my  crimson  pipe  was  found,  but  it  had  evidently  bloomed 
alone  amid  hundreds  of  its  pallid  kindred. 

As  with  the  lapsing  flowers,  so  with  the  verdure.  I  think  I 
could  go  this  day  to  a  small  hickory-tree  one-half  of  the  foliage 
of  which  is  creamy  white.  I  innocently  brought  a  specimen  of  it 
once  to  a  noted  botanist,  and  he  half  proposed  to  confer  upon  me 
the  questionable  distinction  of  propagating  it  under  the  title  of 
"  Variety  Gibsoni !"  I  will  venture  the  guess  that  the  squirrel 
wastes  little  time  on  its  shell-barks.  There  is  a  parallel  case  of  a 
certain  bramble  (Rubus  Canadensis),  a  "sport"  whose  shady  haunt 
I  well  know.  I  always  see  him  hanging  around  the  same  corner. 
The  leaves  of  the  plant  are  cut  into  a  deep-toothed  fringe  almost 
to  the  midrib  —  a  charm  which  the  eye  of  the  typical  gardener 
would  covet  as  an  instance  of  where  Nature  had  taken  a  hand 
in  self-improvement,  and  outdone  herself;  but,  of  course,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  the  degeneracy  is  further  proved  by  the  few 
though  showy  double  flowers,  that  as  yet  have  yielded  no  fruit 
that  I  could  discern.  I  fancy  the  poor  thing  is  rather  pitied  than 
otherwise  by  the  companions  in  its  neighborhood. 

Look  well  to  your  wild  flower,  O  poet  or  botanist,  ere  you 
claim  to  know  it.  How  has  that  little  fringed  polygala  laughed 
in  its  purple  sleeve  as  you  described  its  beauties  to  your  friend ! 
Most  wild-flower  hunters  are  familiar  with  this  lovely  blossom, 
with  its  close  cluster  of  leaves  suggesting  those  of  the  checker- 
berry,  and  its  singular  orchid-like  purple-winged  flower  inevitably 
suggesting  a  tiny  butterfly  with  a  long  fringed  tail.  It  is  always 
a  prize,  but  the  real  nugget  is  below.  A  search  down  there  among 
the  moss  at  its  root  discloses  a  singular  secret  not  generally  given 
away  in  the  nosegay.  For  this  vain  purple  banneret  signals  the 


THE     WILD     GARDEN. 


179 


way  to  a  new  and  unsuspected  path  in  our  wild  garden  — the  dels- 
togamic  flowers — the  plant  having  one  blossom  for  the  light  and 
another  for  the  darkness.  Like  many  of  its  congeners  and  a  long 
list  of  other  plants,  the  fringed  polygala  shows  one  face  to  the 
world  and  another  to  mother-earth.  "  Here,  worldling,"  she  would 
seem  to  say,  "  take  my  fluttering  pennant  if  you  will,  but  spare 
my  anchor."  These  subterranean  anchor  flowers 
are  borne  on  long  stems,  and  are  entirely  with- 
out petals,  appearing  indeed  more  like  small 
roundish  pods  than  flowers ;  but  they  plant 
the  mould  with  seed  and  doubtless  keep 
many  a  spot  in  the  woods  perennially  tuft- 
ed with  the  purple  broods,  else  exterminated 
by  the  vandal  hand,  whether  that  of  bot- 
anist or  eager  childhood.  I  have  rarely 
met  with  a  wild-flower  enthusiast  who 
knows  even  the  spring  violet.  Take  the 
common  blue  species,  for  instance  ( Viola 
cucullatci) ;  you  know  it  of  course.  "  It 
blossoms  in  the  early  spring,"  say 
you.  Oh  yes,  for  poet  and  bouton- 
niere,  but  not  for  posterity.  Go 
now,  even  in  October,  to  your  favor- 
ite violet-bed  in  the  woods,  and  find 
your  dozen  blossoms  where  there  was 
one  in  May  —  if  you  can.  The  dry 
leaves  are  rattling  to  the  sowing  of  their 
seed  showers,  shot  afar  from  the  pods  ripen- 
ing from  perfect  flowers  every  day.  I  have 
a  clump  of  this  wild  violet  in  my  city  yard, 
and  even  as  late  as  November  I  have  picked 

its  blooms,  nodding  among  a  veritable  galaxy  of  white  three-cor- 
nered stars  of  the  open  pods,  either  empty  or  loaded  full  with 
their  charge  of  seed.  This  flower  is  not  for  beauty  but  for  utility, 
looking  merely  like  a  close-pointed  green  calyx;  but  it  is  loaded 
with  a  potent  energy  unknown  to  its  vain  vernal  predecessor. 


FRINGED   GENTIAN. 


j8o  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

For  it  would  seem  to  be  a  law  of  Nature  that  fruition  is  in- 
versely as  the  petals  of  the  flower.  Flowers  artificially  doubled 
by  turning  the  stamens  into  petals  are  often  without  seed,  or  with 
seeds  which  are  germless.  In  the  wilds  where  Nature  wishes  to 
insure  a  fruitful  life  it  would  seem  she  sometimes  entirely  de- 
prives the  flower  of  its  corolla,  as  in  the  instances  given — a  preg- 
nant text  which  is  feelingly  committed  to  the  prayerful  consider- 
ation of  the  world's  garden,  where  all  is  vanity.  This  cautious 
peculiarity  is  found  in  various  plants,  and  is  doubtless  the  saving 
grace  of  many,  as  in  the  case  of  the  beautiful  little  polygala,  oth- 
erwise in  certain  districts  eradicated  in  posies.  The  cistus  or 
frost-weed  has  a  golden  rose  or  two  for  the  poet,  but  later  on 
lower  branches  a  thousand  microscopic  blossoms  which  bear  the 
responsibility  of  posterity.  The  gay  young  jewel-weed  is  decked 
with  golden  trinkets,  but  later  forgets  her  eardrops  in  the  cares 
of  maternity.  Certain  of  the  clovers,  like  the  peanut,  bury  their 
flowers  in  the  earth  to  insure  the  seed. 

We  have  a  graceful,  delicate,  climbing  vine  known  as  the  wild 
bean,  twining  about  woodland  weeds  and  briers,  its  drooping  ra- 
cemes of  pale  pink  blossoms  and  large  flat  pods  giving  little  to- 
ken of  the  queer  blooms  on  subterranean  stems,  each  yielding  its 
tiny,  round,  hairy,  and  edible  peanut.  Hog-peanut,  it  is  called, 
presumably  because,  of  all  grubbers  in  the  woods,  the  hog,  from 
his  natural  propensities,  is  most  apt  to  find  it. 

The  earth  about  the  roots  of  plants  holds  other  secrets  not 
generally  guessed  by  the  bouquet-hunters.  Clambering  over  the 
stone  wall  or  shrubbery  by  the  road-side  or  meadow  we  have  an- 
other wild  vine,  whose  curious  clusters  of  deep  maroon  flowers 
are  heavy  with  the  scent  of  mignonette.  It  is  allied  to  the  hog- 
peanut  just  described,  and  bears  the  same  popular  name  in  our 
botany  —  the  "wild  bean";  rather  a  misnomer,  for  it  has  no  bean 
worthy  to  distinguish  it,  and  it  is  no  wilder  than  many  another 
of  the  bean  tribe.  It  is  called,  also,  "ground-nut" — a  misnomer 
again,  as  it  has  no  nut ;  but  in  the  botanical  name,  Apios  tuberosa^ 
we  get  at  the  kernel  of  the  matter ;  a  turn  or  two  with  the  spade 
at  the  root  of  the  plant  discloses  the  "nuts"  in  the  shape  of  edible 


THE     WILD     GARDEN.  IgI 

tubers,  formerly  a  favorite  food  of  those  silent  tribes  whose  flints 
are  now  turned  up  by  the  plough  within  the  shadow  of  the  plant. 

What  pathetic  traditions  of  the  primeval  American  are  brought 
from  the  wilderness  to  our  doors  i.n  the  fragrance  of  this  true  na- 
tive vine !  How  many  of  the  wild  blossoming  things  among  which 

it  now  twines  are  but  its  comparatively  new  acquaintances 

plants  which  have  usurped  the  soil  in  the  revolutionary  path  of 
the  "pale-face,"  and  equally  deserving  the  historic  impeachment 
of  the  "  rib-grass  plantain,"  known  everywhere  among  the  Indians 
as  the  "  white  man's  foot !" 

The  list  of  "  naturalized  foreigners "  among  our  wildest  and 
most  common  flora  would  astonish  the  botanical  neophyte  even  as 
it  continually  does  the  student  of  botany.  These  European  floral 
immigrants  have  followed  the  track  of  the  white  man,  and  so  mo- 
nopolized the  soil  that  it  is  no  longer  possible  to  distinguish  the 
native  from  the  naturalized.  Indeed,  the  "  true  American  "  would 
seem  to  be  equally  indistinguishable,  whether  among  the  blossoms 
or  their  patriotic  admirers. 

Summer  after  summer,  through  the  medium  of  the  journals, 
the  public  is  treated  to  the  annual  warm  discussion  concerning 
the  most  worthy  choice  of  a  national  flower;  a  perennial  crop  of 
special  pleas  of  mingled  wheat,  chaff,  and  tares,  which  offers  much 
food  for  mirthful,  tolerant,  or  serious  consideration  to  the  consist- 
ent citizen,  whether  he  be  botanical,  natural  historical,  poetical,  or 
patriotic  in  his  bias.  A  long  list  of  candidates  has  been  put  in 
the  field.  If  there  has  been  one  feature  stranger  than  another  in 
the  amiable  and  entirely  needless  controversy,  it  has  been  that  the 
one  and  only  authorized  floral  claimant  for  the  nation's  honor,  the 
one  perfect  symbol  of  the  democracy,  unity,  grace,  wealth,  pros- 
perity, generosity,  and  beckoning  welcome  of  the  new  continent, 
should  have  found  only  a  bare  majority  of  champions.  The  won- 
der is  that  she  should  have  stood  in  need  of  a  champion  at  all, 
when  she  speaks  so  ably  for  herself  along  every  road -side,  in 
every  field,  wood,  and  prairie,  from  Nova  Scotia  to  Mexico,  and 
from  Puget  Sound  to  Key  West— a  prophet  of  El  Dorado  in  the 
primeval  wilderness,  and  a  preordained  embodiment  of  the  new 


l$2  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

and  shining  light  which  has  since  won  the  christening  of  "Amer- 
ica!" "What  shall  be  our  national  flower?"  is  it  asked.  Say, 
rather,  What  is  our  national  flower  ?  What  other  could  it  be  than 
the  golden -rod? 

Let  us  look  at  a  few  of  its  most  popular  fair  competitors. 
The  mountain-laurel  and  the  wild  rhododendron  are  the  choice 
of  many,  but  these  flowers  are  without  any  inherent  claims  to 
consideration  as  a  national  emblem.  Like  the  golden-rod,  they 
are  distinctly  American  botanical  types,  it  is  true,  and  natives  of 
the  primeval  woods,  but  there  the  resemblance  ceases ;  for,  unlike 
the  golden-rod,  they  shrink  from  the  haunts  of  man,  and  are  fast 
becoming  exterminated  in  his  path. 

And  here  is  fair  Epigaea,  with  hesitating  step.  No, "  my  pretty 
recluse!"  We  want  no  trailing  arbutus  on  our  shield  or  banner; 
no  shrinking  blossom  that  must  be  sought  out  in  its  exclusive 
nook,  and  which  permits  itself  to  be  trodden  underfoot  without  a 
token.  In  the  far  millennium  this  lovely  flower  may  serve  its  turn, 
but  the  time  is  not  yet.  The  shy,  blushing  bloom  hiding  its  face 
beneath  its  leaves  is  no  symbol  for  a  country  that  looms  upon  the 
horizon  of  the  world  and  beckons  to  all  mankind.  The  golden- 
rod  alone  does  this.  How  irresistibly  are  its  claims  asserted ! 
How  unconsciously  and  prophetically  are  its  attributes  cham- 
pioned !  Even  in  the  conventional  torch  of  our  beneficent  god- 
dess we  see  a  replica  of  its  spire  of  bloom. 

"  The  fringed  gentian  ?"  say  you.  A  faithful  American  type, 
truly,  but  it  is  not  wide-awake  enough  to  meet  the  requirements 
of  an  ensign.  We  want  no  fair-weather  blossom,  that  loses  heart 
at  every  cloud  or  drop  of  rain.  Give  us  an  ensign  that  is  always 
flying  its  colors,  a  flower  with  the  same  bright  face  night  or  day, 
rain  or  shine ;  one  that  is  known  not  merely  to  the  poet  and  the 
swain  and  the  botanist  of  a  restricted  vicinity,  but  to  the  common- 
wealth. Such  is  the  golden -rod. 

The  "cardinal-flower"  has  had  many  warm  votaries;  but  the 
cardinal -flower  is  a  stranger  to  all  but  a  few  of  our  population,  and 
is  known  at  all  only  in  a  comparatively  restricted  section  of  our 
land.  Besides,  its  name  is  against  it.  Let  us  avoid  the  slightest 


THE     WILD     GARDEN.  ^3 

opportunity  for  controversy  or  contention  among  the  brethren.  It 
would  never  do  to  flaunt  this  firebrand  among  them. 

Many  enthusiasts,  with  more  sentiment  than  discrimination, 
have  commended  the  dandelion.  But  are  we  seeking  a  national 
flower  ?  What  is  the  dandelion  ?  A  naturalized  foreigner— an  at- 
tribute, it  is  true,  which  has  much  to  recommend  it ;  but  unfortu- 
nately it  is  more  than  this ;  it  is  the  same  "  dear  common  flower  " 
the  world  over— Asia,  Africa,  Europe — a  non-committal,  conserva- 
tive cosmopolitan  that  smiles  as  sweetly  by  the  King's  highway 
as  by  the  path  of  freedom.  Do  we  want  the  dandelion  ?  Better 
the  loyal  witch-hazel,  our  own  discriminating  divining-rod,  that 
refuses  to  be  reconciled  to  royal  soil. 

The  pond-lily  has  a  number  of  sponsors,  but  without  reason, 
having  no  other  notable  distinction  from  its  foreign  counterparts 
than  its  perfume  —  a  quality  which,  up  to  date,  has  not  been  suc- 
cessfully conveyed  through  the  visible  arts. 

The  wild- rose  and  the  violet  have  recently  come  prominent- 
ly to  the  front  as  important  floral  candidates.  But  where  is  the 
country  on  the  globe  which  will  not  show  us  this  same  wild-rose 
and  violet?  Their  close  counterparts  are  omnipresent,  and  our 
American  blossoms  have  little,  in  the  popular  sense,  worthy  to 
distinguish  them  as  a  national  emblem. 

One  by  one  these  and  many  other  fair  claimants  have  brought 
their  credentials,  and  though  primed  for  the  occasion,  retire  in  dis- 
comfiture. 

What  of  the  golden  -rod  ?  She  is  not  called.  She  comes  with 
confidence  in  her  heart  and  victory  on  her  brow;  and  thus  she 
speaks : 

"My  name  is  Golden-rod.  I  am  the  ordained  messenger  of 
that  untold  natural  wealth  which  has  blessed  your  land  and  is 
still  your  heritage.  My  divining-rods  are  scattered  broadcast 
over  your  continent.  They  are  in  reach  of  all,  and  my  dividend 
is  a  hundred  per  cent,  on  every  square  foot. 

"  I  am  a  member  of  a  hardy  American  family,  which  have  al- 
ways been  true  to  their  native  sod.  There  are  nearly  one  hun- 
dred of  us,  all  told,  gladly  living  among  you,  a  united  family,  true 


184  STARLIGHT    AND    SUNSHINE. 

gold,  without  alloy,  having  long  ago  sentenced  our  only  two 
black  sheep  to  Europe  in  exile. 

"  We  belong  to  a  noble  order  known  as  the  Composites,  which 
means  a  unit  composed  of  many,  each  of  my  golden  stars  being 
composed  of  many  flowers;  and  our  immediate  family  are  called 
Solidago  by  your  prophets,  which  name,  as  one  of  them  affirms,  is 
'derived  from  solidus  and  ago,  to  draw  together,  to  join,  to  make 
whole.' 

"Am  I  not  indeed  Columbia's  true  emblem  ?  My  being  is  a 
harmonious  assemblage  of  individuals  with  hearts  that  beat  as 
one;  and  since  those  far  ages  when  'America'  received  her  primal 
christening  E  pluribus  unum  has  been  my  motto." 

If  the  golden -rod  has  not  been  nominated  by  acclamation,  it 
is  because  its  claims  have  not  been  appreciated.  In  its  selection 
no  sectional  jealousy  will  be  aroused.  It  will  certainly  be  a  sur- 
prise to  most  people  to  know  that  the  genus  is  practically  con- 
fined to  the  American  continent — a  rare  botanical  phenomenon 
— and  that  of  the  nearly  one  hundred  American  species,  seventy- 
eight  are  found  in  the  United  States.  The  two  sole  European 
species,  unlike  hundreds  of  other  floral  immigrants,  never  have 
been  seen  here,  much  less  naturalized. 

Considered  in  the  abstract,  its  conspicuous  beauty  alone  is  a 
sufficient  champion ;  its  recommendations  of  color,  grace,  stately 
ornamental  symmetry  being  self-evident,  lending  itself  to  all  man- 
ner of  art  treatment  or  conventional  decoration.  Moreover,  if  we 
are  to  be  consistent  in  our  choice;  if  we  are  to  regard  the  inher- 
ent attributes  of  the  contending  flora,  it  is  the  composite  flower 
that  must  typify  the  union.  And  such  a  flower  should  be  a  true 
child  of  the  sod.  Among  all  the  native  composite,  the  only  two 
genera  between  which  there  is  the  slightest  ground  for  rivalry  are 
the  golden-rods,  with  seventy-eight  species,  and  the  asters,  with  one 
hundred  and  twenty-four.  But  who  would  hesitate  a  moment  as 
between  the  former  and  the  royal  group  that  wears  the  "purple?" 

No,  I  repeat,  the  question  is  not  "  What  shall  be  our  national 
flower?"  The  Solidago  is  our  national  flower  and  ever  will  be, 
even  though  it  continue  to  cry  in  the  wilderness. 


THE     WILD     GARDEN.  ^ 

The  wild  garden  is  bounded  by  snow-banks,  the  heaping  drift 
of  November  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  thawing  ice  of  March  on 
the  other,  and  the  hardy  hepatica,  witch-hazel,  and  chickweed 
open  and  close  the  floral  season. 

But  in  paying  our  tribute  to  the  exceptional  vigor  of  these 
plants,  we  are  entirely  forgetting  a  noted  group  which  hold  the 
honors  for  hardihood. 

Did  the  "  Appalachian  "  climber  ever  stop  to  think  what  our 
mountain  summits  would  be  without  the  heath  ?  True,  we  have 
none  of  the  heather  that  impurples  the  Highland  fells  of  Great 
Britain,  but  that  foreign  type  is  replaced  with  us  by  other  species 
that  paint  our  June  mountain  ranges  with  beauty;  inspiring  mis- 
sionaries whose  mission  it  is  to  soften  the  grim  austerity  of  the 
crags,  to  reclaim  the  bleak  desert  and  reconcile  the  earth  and  sky 
—in  short,  to  carry  the  garden  heavenward.  It  would  indeed  be 
like  taking  the  entire  garment  from  the  granite  backs  of  the 
White  Hills  were  we  to  withdraw  the  heath -blooms.  How  they 
tuft  and  pillow  the  crags  and  spurs !  What  a  troop  of  them, 
too!  Rhododendrons  and  azaleas,  with  their  purple  glow  flood- 
ing the  chaparral ;  bilberries  of  several  kinds  making  green  many 
a  chink  and  cranny  among  the  rocks;  the  moss-like  cassiope  with 
its  nodding  bells;  dwarf  blueberries  and  cranberries,  and  cow- 
berries with  their  deep  red  and  tonic  acid  fruit.  The  pretty  yel- 
low phyllodoce  is  here,  and  the  ledum  with  its  leaves  backed  with 
their  woollen  blanket  carefully  hemmed  at  its  edges,  and  various 
others. 

Always  fresh  and  green,  their  blossoms  ruddy  with  the  blast 
or  drenched  with  the  flying,  freezing  scud,  exposed  to  the  fiercest 
storms,  even  incased  in  solid  ice  or  buried  deep  for  months  be- 
neath mountainous  depths  of  snow,  they  dwell  in  peace,  and  in 
abiding  faith  expand  their  blossom-buds  for  spring.  Do  they  not 
speak  to  us  ? 

"Oh,  lovely  is  the  rose!"  who,  indeed,  shall  challenge  its  beau- 
ty?     This   nodding   "Mermet"  in   the   beam    of   sunlight  within 
the  conservatory,  for  instance.     What  lush  life  and  sensuous  con- 
24 


!86  STARLIGHT    AND     SUNSHINE. 

sciousness  are  betrayed  in  every  petal !  What  a  delight  to  the 
eye,  what  a  perfect  compendium  to  the  disciple  of  "  art  for  art 
alone"!  Its  bewildering  complexity  of  flowing  lines,  its  infinite 
modulations  of  form  and  light  and  shade  and  color,  each  curling, 
moulded  petal  in  itself  an  epitome  of  art,  with  its  half-tones,  its 
single  key-note  of  pure  color,  and  its  line  of  reflected  sheen  at 
the  curling  edge,  where  the  borrowed  hue  tells  of  the  sky  or 
cloud,  or,  perhaps,  of  some  neighboring  sunny  bloom.  See  the 
shadows  of  petal  on  petal  transmitted  through  the  sunlit  glow 
of  the  overhanging  corolla,  while  all  below  is  painted  with  com- 
plex light  and  shade,  each  shaded  petal  nursing  the  shadow  of 
itself  within  its  chalice,  each  shadowed  cup,  again,  lit  up  with 
reflected  light  from  within,  and  carrying  around  its  edge  that 
wondrous  gamut  of  pearly  grays  which  have  been  the  despair  of 
art.  Yes,  yes,  I  grant  it  all ;  it  is  ravishing.  Paint  me  the  rose, 
O  Art,  and  thenceforth  hesitate  at  nothing ! 

Verily  may  I  conclude  with  Goethe, "  Some  flowers  are  lovely 
only  to  the  eye,  others  are  lovely  to  the  heart."  Others,  again, 
are  lovely  to  the  soul,  and  it  is  the  wild  garden  alone  that  leads 
us  into  the  clouds. 


• 


AILANTUS  silk-worm.     See  Moth. 

"Albino"  flowers,  176. 

Alder,  leaf-roller  of,  137,  176. 

Alder,  white.     See  Clethra. 

Allen,  Grant,  quoted,  148. 

Alpine  flowers,  127;  Alpine  willow,  127;  Alpine 

insects,  121,  128,  143,  147,  148. 
Amber,  insects  in,  124. 
Andromeda  (A.  ligustrina),  161. 
Anemone  nemorosa,  170,  173. 
Anemone,  rue  (Thalictrum  atutnoturides),  161. 
Apple,  169. 

Apple-tree  moth,  botanical  selection  of,  141. 
Arbutus.     See  Trailing  Arbutus. 
Archippus  butterfly  (Danais),  a  botanical  expert, 

142.     See  Butterfly. 
Arethusa  (A.  bitlbosa),  162. 
Arnica,  17. 

Arum,  dragon,  160;  insect  specialist  of,  140. 
Asclepias.     See  Milk-weed. 
Ashes,  plants  growing  in,  158. 
Asterias  butterfly,  131. 
Asters,  166  ;    at  night,  25  ;    number  of  species, 

184. 

Audubon,  79;  quoted,  83,  86,  87. 
Autumn  color  of  foliage,  174. 
Azalea: — Alpen,  184;  "  apples"  of,  161  ;  Pinxter, 

169;  smooth,  169;  swamp  (A.  viscosa),?,!,  33, 

49,  161,  169. 

BACHELOR'S-BUTTONS  (Centauria)  at  night,  19. 
Balsams,  leaves  of,  at  night,  19. 
Baltimore  oriole.     See  Oriole. 
Basswood.     See  Linden. 


Bat,  53,  56. 

Bay  (Myrica  gale],  164. 

Bean  family  of  plants,  distinguished  by  butter- 
flies, 133,  135. 

Bean  leaves  at  night,  18. 

Bedstraw,  169. 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  quoted,  69,  74. 

Bee-marten.     See  King-bird. 

Bees  and  blossoms,  29,  46. 

Beetle: — Fragrant,  50  ;  leaf-rolling  of  hazel  and 
alder,  135;  of  dog-bane,  137;  pea-weevil,  135; 
Swiss,  137. 

Bellwort  (Uvularia),  161. 

Bilberries,  184. 

Bird  songs,  61,  87;  nocturnal,  54. 

Bird-foot  violet.     See  Violet. 

Birds,  albino,  176. 

Birds,  nocturnal,  52-56,  81-83. 

Birds'-nests,  91-116;  singular  materials  of,  97. 

Bittern  (Botanriis  lentiginosus),  56. 

Blackberry,  freak  of,  177, 

Blackbird,  cow.      See  Cow-bird. 

Blackbird,  red-winged.     See  Starling. 

Black-eyed  Susan.     See  Cone-flower. 

Blazing-star  (Chain&liriutn  luteuni),  162,  172. 

Bloodroot    (Sangiiinaria    Canadensis),  161,  170, 

173- 

Bluebells.     See  Harebell. 

"  Blue-bottles"  (Centaured)  flowers  at  night,  19. 
Blueberry,  169,  184. 
Bluebird,  64,  71,  97,  112;  albino,  176. 
Blue-eyed  grass  (Sisyrinchinm],  159. 
Blueflag  (Iris  versicolor),  abnormal  variety  of,  177; 

albino  of,  176. 


i88 


INDEX. 


Bobolink,  64;  change  of  plumage,  78,  92;  "on 
toast,"  78;  song  of.  72. 

"  Bob  White,"  72. 

Botanists,  156,  159,  162;  insect,  119-149. 

Botany,  14,  divine,  156. 

Brewer,  quoted,  85,  115. 

Broom  and  bee,  29. 

Browning,  Elizabeth,  quoted,  156;  Robert,  quot- 
ed, 30,  31. 

Bryant,  quoted,  25,  29,  74,  152;  bobolink,  77; 
grouse,  83;  painted-cup,  166;  violet,  170,  172. 

Bull-frog,  55. 

Bull's-eye  moth.     See  Saturnia  Moth. 

Bunting,  cow.     See  Cow-bird. 

Bunting,  snow,  nest  material  of,  98. 

Burdock  (Lappa  major),  albino,  176. 

Burnt  land,  vegetation  of,  158. 

Burroughs,  John,  references  and  quotations,  72, 
74,83,97,112,157. 

Bush  clover  at  night,  16. 

Buttercups  at  night,  26. 

Butterflies  and  flowers,  28. 

Butterflies:— Alope,  146;  Alpine,  121,  128,  143, 
147,  148;  "Angle -wings,"  121,  123;  antiopa, 
119-121, 123, 147;  Aphrodite,  140;  Apollo,  127, 
143;  Archippus,  142;  as  botanists,  119-149; 
Atlanta,  121 ;  Comma,  121 — as  a  botanist,  128, 
132 — suggestive  decoration  of,  122,  128-136; 
Faunus,  123;  foreign,  147;  fossil,  124;  in  win- 
ter, 119;  Lavinia,  140;  Milbert's,  121 ;  Mon- 
arch, 142 ;  Mount  Washington  (Semideo),  148  ; 
"Painted  Lady,"  121,  144;  Phaeton,  145; 
Semicolon,  128,  131,  144,  146;  Skipper  ( Tity- 
rus),  136;  Swallow-tail,  black,  as  botanists, 
131 ;  Swallow-tail,  blue,  145 ;  Swallow-tail, 
zebra,  147;  Swiss,  122,  123,  127,  143;  Thisbe, 
140;  Troilus,  145  ;  white,  garden,  as  botanists, 
132;  white  J,  121,  131;  yellow  (Phi-lodice),  as 
botanists,  133. 

Butterfly-weed  (Asclepias  tuberosd)  166. 

Butterfly  orchid  (Oncidium  papilio),  154. 

CABBAGE  leaves  at  night,  18. 

Caddis-flies,  55. 

Calopogon,  169. 

Calypso  (Calypso  borealis),  159,  162. 

Cardinal  -  flower   (Lobelia   cardinalis),  160,  165; 

albino,  176;   a  "national   flower"  candidate, 

182. 

Carnivorous-plant.     See  Pitcher-plant. 
Carrion-flower  (Smilax  Jterbacea),  172. 
Cassandra  (C.  Calyculata),  164. 
Cassia  at  night,  16. 
Cassiope,  184. 

Cat-bird,  night  song  of,  54,  64. 
Catchfly  pink   157. 
Caterpillar: — of  Blueflag,  177;  of  evening  prim- 


rose, 137;  hog,  139;  of  milk-weed,  142;  silk  of 
in  birds'-nests,  99;  skins  of  as  birds'-nest  mate- 
rial, 99;  sphinx,  138,  139. 

Catfish.     See  Pout. 

Cat-tail  seed-down,  103 

Cecropia  moth,  142. 

Chat,  yellow-breasted  (Icteria  viridis),  night  song 
of,  54- 

Chaucer,  quoted,  13,  60. 

Chebec  flycatcher  (Entpidonax  minimus),  72 

Cherry,  wild,  169. 

Chestnut  blossoms,  odor  of,  52.  170. 

Chewink  (Pipilo),  night  song  of,  54,  64. 

Chickadee,  72,  97,  112. 

Chickweed,  at  night,  22,  26;  hardihood  of,  184. 

Chipping -sparrow  (Spizella  socialis),  night  song 
of,  54,  64 ;  nest  material  of,  97. 

Clethra,  164,  169;  night  fragrance  of,  49,  52. 

Climbing  fumitory  (Aa'ltimia),  157,  161. 

Clovers: — Albino,  176;  buffalo,  168;  fragrant,  168; 
in  rain,  17;  lucenx,  168  ;  melilot,  20;  red,  168  ; 
sleep  of,  15;  underground  pods  of,  170;  va- 
rious nocturnal  attitudes  of,  16,  17,  20;  white 
clover  and  wood  ashes,  158. 

Coleridge,  quoted,  28,  39. 

Colt'sfoot  (Asaruni  Canadense),  48,  173 ;  sweet, 
169. 

Columbine  (Aquilegia  Canadensis),  161. 

Comma  butterfly.     See  Butterflies. 

Composite,  butterfly  experts  on,  141,  145. 

Cone-flower  (Rudbeckia},  166. 

Conservatories,  London,  153. 

Conservatory  versus  "Wild  Garden,"  153-185. 

Coon-hair  in  birds'-nests,  97. 

Coral-root.     See  Orchid. 

Coreopsis  flowers  at  night,  19. 

Corpse-plant.     See  Indian-pipe. 

Cotton-moth,  137. 

Cow-berry,  184. 

Cow-bird  (Molothrus  pecoiis),  114. 

Cranberry,  184. 

Cranesbill  (Geranium  maculatum),  161 ;  at  night, 
26. 

Creeper,  97,  112. 

Creeping  mallow  (M.  rotundifolia)  at  night,  22, 
26 ;  creeping  warbler  (Mniotilta),  106. 

Crow,  64. 

Cuckoo,  European,  ill  yellow-billed  (Coccygus 
Amer.),  nest  of,  no,  in. 

Cuvier,  quoted,  92. 

Cypripedium: — Hybrid,  153;  vt\i\le(C.spectabilis), 
!55>  i°3;  moccasin  -  flower,  lady's -slipper  (C. 
acaule),  163, 167, 169 ;  yellow  (C.  parvifloruni}, 
163,  169. 

DAISY,  13,  157;  and  the  poets,  25,  26. 
Dandelion,  169,  170,  173;  as  a  candidate  for  the 


INDEX. 


"national  flower,"  182;  seeds  of  in  bircls'-nests, 
103. 

Decorative  sense  in  nest-building,  100. 

Deerberry  ( Vacc inium  stamineuiii),  161,  169,  172. 

Deer-hair  in  birds'-nests. 

Desmodium,  night  aspect  of,,i6. 

Devil's-bit,  169. 

Dew,  capricious  condensation  of  on  leaves,38,  41. 

Dewberry,  169. 

Dewy  gossamers,  38. 

Dock,  17. 

Dog-bane,  169;  beetle  of  the,  137;  butterfly  bot- 
anist of,  142. 

Double  flowers,  degeneracy  of,  178,  179. 

Dove,  turtle,  nest  of,  in. 

Dragon  arum  (Arum  dracontinin),  160. 

"Drum"  of  grouse,  83-87. 

Dutchman's  Breeches.     See  Squirrel-corn. 

EAR-SIGHT,  46,  63. 

Edwards,  reference,  147. 

Eels,  55. 

Eglantine,  169. 

Elder,  52,  169,  170. 

Elliott,  quoted,  83,  86. 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  quoted,  14,  27,  72,  92,  122,  150, 
167. 

Equisetum  in  the  dew,  39. 

Eschscholtzia  blossoms  at  night,  19. 

Evening  primrose,  26,  28,  32,  33,  168 ;  explosive 
unfolding  of  flower,  33 ;  family  distinguished 
by  insect,  137;  half-hearted  welcome  to  butter- 
fly, 28;  its  moth,  137;  perfume  of,  32,  48,  50, 
168;  phosphorescence  of,  27,  34;  welcoming  the 
night-moths,  27,  33. 

Everlasting,  169;  dwarf,  173,  174. 

FALSE  FOXGLOVE  {Gerardia  jlava),  165. 

False  Solomon's-seal  (Smi/attna),  48,  169,  170. 

False  wintergreen.     See  Pyrola. 

Fern-wool  in  birds'-nests,  106. 

Figwort  family  (Schrophnlariacecr)  distinguished 
by  butterflies,  140,  145. 

Finch,  purple,  63  ;  nest  ingredients  of,  99,  101. 

Fire,  plants  following, 

Fire-fly  and  glowworm,  37,  38. 

Fire-weed  (Epilobiiim  angustifoKuni),  158 ;  white 
specimens,  176. 

Flagg,  Wilson,  quoted,  68,  74,  78,  85,  96. 

Flicker  (Colaptes  auratus],  60,  64,  112. 

Floral  nondescripts  and  monstrosities,  153. 

Flower,  the  national,  180-184. 

Flowering  wintergreen  (Polygala  pauciflorci),  un- 
derground blossoms  of,  178. 

Flowers: — Augmented  fragrance  at  night,  47-52; 
awaiting  insects,  28;  cleistogamic,  178,  179; 
"doubling"  of,  178,  179;  fragrant,  168;  freaks, 


189 

176;  interdependence  of  flowers  and  insects, 
28,  141 ;  in  their  relation  to  insects,  27-34,  I23, 
127,  137,  141;  leaves  posing  as,  166;  phospho- 
rescent, 27,  34-36  ;  underground,  178,  179 ; 
wild  and  cultivated,  153-185. 

Fly,  remarkable,  in  pitcher-plant,  165. 

Flycatcher,  crested,  nest  of,  97 ;  singular  choice 
of  building  material,  101. 

Foliage,  freaks  in,  177. 

Forget-me-not,  166. 

Fossils,  insects,  124-126;  plants,  124-126. 

Fox-fire.     See  Phosphorescent  fungi. 

Fox,  fur  of,  in  bird's-nest,  98. 

Foxglove.     See  False  foxglove. 

Fox-grape,  169. 

Fragrance  of  flowers,  126;  at  night,  47-52. 

Fragrant  wild-flowers,  list  of,  168. 

Freaks  among  wild-flowers,  176,  177. 

Fringed  gentian,  172. 

Frost-grape,  169. 

Frost-weed  (Helianthemum  Canadense),  two  sorts 
of  flowers,  179. 

Fumitory,  climbing  (Adlumia),  157,  161. 

GENTIAN  :  closed  (G.  Andre~Msii),  albino  freak, 
176;  as  a  national  flower,  182;  at  night,  25 — 
Bryant's  poem,  176;  fringed  (G.  crinita),  172. 

Geological  indicators  among  plants,  158. 

Geological  succession  of  plants  and  insects,  126. 

Geranium,  phosphorescence  at  night,  35, 

Geranium,  wild (G,macnlatum'),i^i\  at  night,  26. 

Gerarde  quoted,  "fumitory,"  157. 

Ginseng  (Aralia  nudicanlis),  160. 

Glowworm  and  fire-fly,  37,  38. 

Gnatcatcher,  blue-gray,  nest  of,  105. 

Golden-crested  wren,  nest  of,  113. 

Goethe,  quoted,  36,  154,  186. 

Golden-crowned  thrush.     See  Thrush. 

Golden-rod,  166;  broad-leaved,  169;  distribution 
of  species,  183;  sweet,  170;  the  preordained 
national  flower  of  America,  181-184. 

Goldfinch,  64,  65;  nest  and  nidification  of,  103. 

Gossamers  and  dew,  38. 

Crackle,  64. 

Grape  family  (  Vitacea),  insect  botanists  of,  138. 

Grape,  wild,  fragrance  of,  52. 

Grasses, in  the  dew,  39;  insect  specialists  on,  138. 

Grasshopper,  nocturnal,  55. 

Grossbeak,  rose-breasted,  64;  song  of,  66. 

Ground-nut  (Apios  tuberosa),  166;  leaves  at  night, 
1 6;  odor  of  blossoms,  48,  1 68,  I  So;  tubers  of, 
1 80;  ginseng,  (Aralia)  169,  170. 

Ground  robin.     See  Chewink. 

Grouse.     See  Ruffed  grouse. 

HAIR-BIRD,     See  Sparrow,  chipping. 
Hang-bird.     See  Oriole. 


190 


INDEX. 


Harebells  {Campanula  rotundifolia),  161. 

Hams,  reference,  131. 

Hawk-moths,  28,  33,  34  ;  botanical  instincts  of, 

138,  139;  colors  of,  34;  their  intimate  relation 

to  flowers,  28,  34. 

Hawkweed  (Hieracium  venosiim),  168. 
Hawthorne,  quoted,  32,  37,  67,  120. 
Hazel  leaf-roller,  135. 
Heath   family  (Ericaceae),  hardihood   of   Alpine 

species,  184;  insect  specialists  on,  139;  species 

contrasted,  165. 

Hempstead,  L.  I.,  violet  field,  159. 
Hepatica.     See  Liverwort. 
Herons,  56. 

Herrick,  Robert,  quoted,  124. 
Hickory,  freak  of,  177. 
Hog-bristles  in  birds'-nests,  99,  101. 
Hog-peanut  (Amphicarpaea),  16,  179. 
Holy  Ghost  flower  (Spirito  Santo), 
Honeysuckle,  169. 
Hood,  quoted,  29. 

Hop  clover  (  Tii folium  agrarium)  at  night,  16. 
Hornet-nest,  paper  of,  in  birds'-nests,  94,  100. 
Horse-chestnut  buds,  106. 
Horse-hair  in  birds'-nests,  97,  99,  108. 
Horse-tail.     See  Equisetum. 
Huckleberry,  169:  squaw,  see  Deerberry. 
Hume,  quoted,  87. 
Humming-bird,  nest  of,  106,  114;   various  nests, 

115,  116;  Allen's,  115. 
Hybrids,  153. 

"IMPROVED"  species,  153-185. 

Indian  cucumber  (Medeola  Virginica),  160,  161. 

Indian-pipe  (Monotropa  unifiora),  160,  165;  crim- 
son variety  of,  177. 

"  Indicative  "  flowers,  158. 

Indigo-bird  (Cyanospiza),  64;  nest  of,  113. 

Insects: — Alpine,  121-128;  as  botanists,  119-149; 
boring  in  dead  pine,  57;  dwellers  in  pitcher- 
plant,  165;  fossil,  124-126;  in  amber,  124-126; 
in  their  relation  to  flowers,  27-29,  33,  34,  123, 
127,  141 ;  nocturnal,  55  ;  odors  of  at  night,  50; 
victims  of  pitcher-plant,  164. 

Insectivorous-plant.     See  Pitcher-plant. 

JASMINE,  flowers  at  night,  32. 
Jewel-weed  (Impatiens),  begemmed  with  dew,  41 ; 
secret  flowers  of,  179. 

KEATS,  quoted,  27,  46. 

Kingbird  ( Tyrannus  Carolirteitsis),  64. 

Kinglet,  ruby-crowned  (A'fgu/us  calendula),  165. 

LABRADOR  TEA  (Ledum},  185. 
Lace  in  bird's-nest,  100. 
Lace-wing  fly,  odor  of,  50. 


Lady's-slipper.     See  Cypripedium. 

Lady's-tresses.     See  Orchid. 

Lake  George  swamp,  163. 

Laurel.     See  Mountain-laurel. 

Laurel  family  (Laurace<r,)  insect  specialists  on, 

145- 

Laurel  and  Rue  families,  146. 
Leaf-roller,  of  alder,  137 ;  of  hazel,  135. 
Leguminous  plants,  distinguished  by  insects,  133- 

135  ;  irritable  leaves  of,  17. 

Lily,  fire  (Lilium  Philadelp/iicum),  albino  of,  176. 
Linden,  fragrance  of  at  night,  50,  169. 
Liverwort  (Hepatica  triloba),  161,  169,  173,  174; 

under  snow,  175,  184. 
Lizard's  tail  (Saururus),  55. 
Locust,  leaves  of  at  night,  17;  fragrance  of,  169. 
Long  moss  in  bird's-nest,  109,  141. 
Loon  (Colytnbtis  torquatus),  56. 
Loosestrife,  hairy,  169. 
Lousewort.     See  Wood  betony. 
Lowell,  quoted,  62,  66,  74,  106. 
Lubbock,  quoted,  122. 
Lucern.     See  Clover. 
Luna  moth,  142. 
Lupine,  blue,  166;  various  attitudes  at  night,  20, 

21 ;  albino,  176. 

MADDER  family  (Galiunt)  distinguished  by  in- 
sects, 140. 

Maiden-hair  fern  (Adiantitm  pedatum),  161. 

Mallow,  creeping,  at  night,  22,  26. 

Mallow  family  (Malvacea)  distinguished  by  in- 
sects, 138,  145. 

Maple  family  (Acerina)  distinguished  by  a  moth, 
169. 

Marigold,  at  night,  25, 26;  phosphorescence  of,  35. 

Marsh-wren,  nest  of,  113. 

Marten,  54. 

Maryland  yellow-throat,  71,  113. 

May-apple,  169.     See  also  Azalea. 

May-flower.     See  Trailing  arbutus. 

McMillan,  Hugh,  quoted,  126. 

Meadow-lark,  64,  71. 

Meadow-rue,  odor  of  at  night,  50;  purple  speci- 
mens, 175,  177;  small  (Thalictrum  dioicutn), 
161  ;  tall,  172. 

Melilot  clover,  singular  night  attitude,  20. 

Melon  family  (Curciibitacea),  distinguished  by  in- 
sects, 138. 

"  Midnight  Ramble,"  13-42. 

Milk-weed,  169;  bark  of  in  birds'-nests,  94,  95, 
108 ;  remarkable  caterpillar  of,  142  ;  seeds  in 
nest,  101. 

Milk-weed  family,  a  butterfly  expert  on,  142. 

Miller,  Joachim,  quoted,  122. 

Mimosa,  16. 

Miner,  "indicative"  plants  for,  158. 


INDEX. 


Mink,  55. 

Mint,  odors  of,  52. 

Mints,  170. 

Moccasin-flower.     See  Cypripedium. 

Monarch  butterfly,  142,  143. 

Moore,  quoted,  32. 

Moth: — Ailantus,  146  ;  Cecropia,  142  ;  evening 
primrose,  137  ;  Luna,  142  ;  Polyphemus,  142  ; 
Prometheus,  142,  146 ;  Saturnia,  142. 

Moth  mullein  {Verbascum  blattarid),  168,  170. 

Moths  and  flowers,  27,  30,  31,  34,  128,  137,  142. 

Mount  Washington  butterfly  (Semidea),  148. 

Mountain  bog,  163. 

Mountain-laurel  (Kalmia  latifolia),\bi,  165, 169; 
as  a  candidate  for  national  flower,  181;  blos- 
soms awaiting  insects,  28. 

Mullein,  157;  at  night,  26. 

Murray,  W.  H.  II.,  quoted,  56. 

Muskrat,  55. 

Mustard  family  of  plants  distinguished  by  butter- 
flies, 132. 

NAIRN,  Lady,  quoted,  15. 

Nasturtiums: — At  night,  19;  in  rain,  20;  phos- 
phorescence of,  35. 

National  flower,  180-184. 

Nests  of  birds,  92-116. 

Nettle  and  antidote,  17. 

Nettle  family  distinguished  by  butterfly,  128-131. 

Newspaper  fragments  in  birds'-nests,  94. 

Night  animals,  49-56. 

Night  aspect  of  plants,  13-42;  causes,  17. 

Night-blooming  flowers,  26—34;  phosphorescent 
light  from,  27;  welcoming  insects,  27-34;  won- 
derful adaptability  to  hawk-moths  and  butter- 
flies, 28,  34. 

Nighthawk: — At  night,  54,  64;  "booming" of,  78; 
deceptive  antics  of,  80;  lurid  eyes,  79;  nest  and 
young,  80-83,  JI1  I  plumage  of,  79;  source  of 
the  "  boom  "  of,  78;  visiting  nest  of ,  at  night, 
82,  83;  viscid  mouth,  79. 

Night-herons,  56. 

Night  moths,  companionship  with  flowers,  27,  34, 

137- 

Night  odors,  47-52. 
"  Night  Witchery,"  45-57. 
Nocturnal  animals,  49,  50,  52-56. 
Nose,  the,  as  a  midnight  pilot,  47. 
Nuthatch  (Sitta  Carolinensis),  72,  97,  112. 
Nuttall,  quoted,  69,  102,  108. 

ODORS  of  flowers  intensified  at  night,  50. 

Olive  family  (Oleacea)  distinguished  by  a  moth, 

140. 

Orchard  oriole  (I.  spurius),  64. 
Orchids  : — Adapted  to  moths,  28;  Arethusa  bul- 
bosa,  162, 169;  Calopogon,  169;  Calypso  borealis, 


159,  l°2;  coral-root  (Corallorhizn),  109,  170; 
lady's-tresses(5;)?raw///^),  169;  Pogonia  verti- 
cillata,  Pogoniaoph.,  160,  169;  purple-fringed 
(P '. psycodes),  161,  162,  169;  rattlesnake  plan- 
tain (Goodyera  pubescens),  163  ;  ragged  orchis 
(0.  lacerd),  160 ;  showy  (0.  spectabilis),  167, 
169  ;  small  green  (O.  bracteatd),  161.  See  also 
Cypripedium,  natural  and  "improved,"  153,154. 

Oriole  :— Baltimore  (Icteritis  Baltimore),  63,  99, 
106,  135  ;  anomalous  nests,  109  ;  Chadwick's 
nest,  109;  construction  of  nest,  107—109;  nest, 
material  of,  91, 97;  nests  of  southern  moss,  109. 

Ornithology,  genuine  and  superficial,  91,  92. 

Oven-bird  (Sciurus  aurocapillns},  ingredients  of 
nest,  99;  nest  of,  92, 97, 1 13;  song  of,  71;  night 
song,  54. 

Owl,  52,  53,  64. 

Oxalis,  at  night,  22,  26. 

PAINTED-CUP  (Castilleia  coccined),  165,  166. 

Painted  Lady  butterfly.     See  Butterfly. 

Parsley  family  of  plants  distinguished  by  a  but- 
terfly, 131. 

Partridge.     See  Ruffed  Grouse. 

Partridge-pea  (Cassia),  night  aspect  of,  16. 

Partridge-vine  (Mitchella  repens),  168. 

Pea-blossoms  at  night,  18,  26. 

Peabody,  quoted,  83. 

Peabody-bird,  night  song  of,  54,  70. 

Peanut,  179. 

Peppermint,  169. 

Percy,  Florence,  quoted,  77. 

Pewee.     See  Phoebe. 

Phoebe-bird  (Sayornis  fuscns\  64,  66,  72;  nest  of, 
97,  109. 

Phosphorescence  from  flowers,  27,  34-36. 

Phosphorescent  fungi,  36;  log,  37;  "fox-fire" 
torch,  37. 

Phyllodoce,  185. 

Pickerel-weeds,  55. 

Pig-weeds,  at  night,  22. 

Pimpernel,  at  night,  22. 

Pineapple,  141. 

Pine  family  (Cotiifera;)  distinguished  by  insects, 
140. 

Pine-sap  (Monotropa),  168. 

Pink,  wild,  157. 

Pipsissewa  (Chimaphila  iimbellatd),  168,  169;  (C. 
maculald),  168. 

Pitcher-plant  (Saracenia  purpured),  163;  acres  of, 
163;  its  curious  stigma,  insect  victims,  and  in- 
sect proteges,  164. 

Plantain  (Plantago  major),  in  the  dew,  38 ;  Eng- 
lish (P.  lanceolatd),  180. 

Plants: — As  "geological  indicators,"  158;  follow- 
ing man,  180;  fossil,  124-126;  naturalized,  1 80; 
on  burnt  ground,  158. 


I  92 


INDEX. 


Plato,  quoted,  32. 

Pliny,  quoted,  37,  53,  54. 

Poetry  and  History,  32. 

Pogonia.     See  Orchid. 

Polyphemus-moth,  142. 

Pond-weed  (Utricularia),  luminous  flowers,  36; 

fragrance  of,  52,  169. 

Poplar  family  distinguished  by  insects,  141. 
Poppy,  phosphorescence  of  petals,  35;  poppy  and 

poet,  25,  36;  sleep  of,  23-25. 
Potato,  flowers  of,  at  night,  19. 
Pouts,  55. 

'rimrose.     See  Evening  Primrose. 

'rince's-pine.     See  Pipsissewa  (C.  umbellatd). 

'rometheus-moth,  142. 

'urple-finch.     See  Finch. 

'urple-fringed  orchis.     See  Orchis. 
Purslane  family,  insect  specialists  on,  139. 
Pusley,  night  attitude  of,  22. 
Pyrola,  165,  167,  168;  at  night,  48;  false  winter- 
green,  168;  shin-leaf  (P.  ellipticd),  168;  small, 
169. 

QUAIL,  64. 

RAGGED  orchis  (0.  lacera),  160. 

Railroad  plants,  158. 

Rain,  clovers  in,  17;   evening  primrose  in,  28  ; 

nasturtiums  in,  20. 
Rain-crow,  nest  of,  no. 
Raspberry,  albino  of,  176;  flowering,  169. 
Rattle-box  (Crotallaria),  insect  tenant  of,  135. 
Rattlesnake   hawkweed   ( Hieracium   venosmn ), 

168. 
Rattlesnake  plantain  (Goodyera  pubescens),  163, 

168. 

Red  admiral  butterfly.     See  Butterfly,  Atlanta. 
Red  clover  ( Trifolium  pratense).     See  Clover. 
Red-eyed  vireo,  64;  song  of,  68. 
Redstart,   64  ;    gathering   dandelion-seeds,    103  ; 

nest  ingredients  of,  99. 

Red-wing  starling,  nest  of,  97,  113;  song  of,  71. 
"Reed-birds,"  78. 

Rhododendron,    Alpen,  184;    nivale    {R.  maxi- 
mum), 127. 
Rhodora,  27. 

Rib-grass  (Plantago  lanceolata).     See  Plantain. 
"  Rice -birds,"  78. 
Robin,  albino  of,  176;  nest  of,  62,  97,  109;  song 

of,  69. 

Rock-flower  (Saxifraga  Virginiensis),  173,  174. 
Rooster,  flapping  wings  of,  86,  87. 
Rose  : — Asa  "national  flower,"  182;  at  night,  26; 

eglantine,  169;  of  the  conservatory,  154,  185; 

wild,  154,  169;  family  (Rosacece),  169;  species 

distinguished  by  insects,  141. 
Rose -breasted  Grosbeak,  64,  66. 


Rue-anemone.     See  Anemone. 
Ruffed  grouse  :  —  Attitudes,  86  ;    drumming  at 
-ight,  54;  the  "drum"  of,  83-86. 

SAMUELS,  quoted,  85, 113. 

Sand,  flowers  growing  in,  157,  158. 

Sandpiper,  "  teeter-bird,"  91. 

Saxifrage  family,  butterfly  specialist  on,  143. 

Scabious,  sweet,  169. 

Scarlet  tanager,  64,  165. 

Scouring-rush.     See  Equisetum. 

Scudder,  reference,  142. 

Sea-shore,  plants  of,  157. 

Secret  flowers,  178,  179. 

Seeds,  as  bird-nest  material,  102,  103  ;  winged, 
158. 

Semicolon-butterfly.     See  Butterfly. 

Sensitive-plant,  wild.     See  Partridge-pea. 

Shakespeare,  quoted,  23,  25,  26, 120. 

Shelley,  quoted,  16,  29. 

Shin-leaf.     See  Pyrola. 

Sidesaddle-flower.     See  Pitcher-plant. 

Silk-weed.     See  Milk-weed. 

Skunk,  49,  54, 

Skunk-cabbage,  172,  173,  174. 

Sleep  of  plants,  13-42. 

Smilacena,  48. 

Snake  and  woodpecker,  112. 

Snake-skins  as  a  nest  lining,  101. 

Snap-weed.     See  Jewel-weed. 

Sneeze-weed  (ffelenitim  aatuninale),  1 66. 

Snow-bunting  {Hectrophanes  nivalis),  nest  mate- 
rial of,  98. 

Solanum  family  (Solanacea:),  insect  experts  on, 

139- 

Solomon's-seal  (Polygonatum  bijlonim),  160, 161. 

Sparrow : — Chipping,  54,  64 ;  "  hair-bird,"  nest  of, 
97;  song  of,  54;  English,  64;  field  (Spizella 
pusilla),  64  ;  song-sparrow,  64  ;  white-throated 
(Fringilla  albicollis),  song  of,  70  ;  night  song 
of,  54  ;  yellow  -  winged  Coturniculus  passeri- 
tnis,  64. 

Spenser,  quoted,  39. 

Sphagnum-bog,  163. 

Sphinx-moths.     See  Hawk-moths. 

Spider-silk  in  bird-nests,  93,  97,  116. 

Spider-webs.     See  Gossamer. 

Spiritual  correspondences  in  flowers,  156. 

Spotted  wintergreen.    See  Pipsissewa  (Afaculata). 

Spring  beauty  (Claytonia),  173. 

Squirrel -corn  (Dicentra  Canadensis),  167,  168, 
173- 

Squirrel-cups.     See  Liverwort. 

Squirrel-hair  in  bird-nest,  97. 

Squirrel,  albino,  176;  red,  the  enemy  of  birds,  1 1 2. 

"  Stake-driver,"  56. 

Subterranean  flowers,  178,  179. 


INDEX. 


193 


Sugar-maple,  169. 

Sundews  (Drosera),  159. 

Sunflower,  phosphorescence  of,  35. 

Sunflowers,  166. 

Swallow,  64, 66;  nests  of,  109;  sound  from  wings, 
79- 

Swallow-tail.     See  Butterfly. 

Swamp,  Black  Mountain,  Lake  George,  163;  veg- 
etation of,  157,  159,  162,  163. 

Swamp-honeysuckle.     See  Azalea. 

Sweet-bay,  169. 

Sweetbrier,  169. 

Sweet-fern  (Comptonia),  48,  49. 

Switzerland,  moonlight  meadows  of,  23. 

TANAGER,  64,  165. 

Telegraph-harp,  57. 

Thistle,  169. 

Thistle-bird.     See  Goldfinch. 

Thoreau,  H.  D.,  17;  quoted,  10,  49,52,60,72,97, 
118;  on  the  bobolink,  74  ;  on  the  grouse,  85  ; 
on  the  swamp,  162. 

Thorn-apple  {Stramonium},  170. 

Thoroughwort  {Eiipatorium  ftirpureum'),  albino, 
176. 

Thrush: — Brown,  64;  song  of,  69;  golden-crown- 
ed, 71;  night  song  of,  54;  veery  (Wilson's),  54, 
64;  wood,  64. 

Thrushes,  nests  of,  109. 

Tick  trefoil  {Desmodiuni),  at  night,  16. 

Toad,  55;  skins  of,  in  birds'-nests,  101. 

Toad-flax,  blue  (Linaria  Canadensis),i$%;  yel- 
low (L.  Vulgaris),  166,  168,  170. 

Tobacco-plant,  at  night,  18. 

Towhee  bunting.     See  Chewink. 

Trailing  arbutus,  156,  161;  as  a  "national  flow- 
er," 181;  fragrance  at  night,  47,  167,  168,  172, 
174  ;  under  snow,  175. 

Tree-toad,  55. 

Trowbridge,  J.  T.,  quoted,  83. 

Tuberose,  phosphorescence  of,  35. 

Tulip,  natural  and  "improved,"  154. 

Turtle-dove,  nest  of,  in. 

Turtles,  55. 

Twin-flower  (Linnaa  borealis),  167,  168. 

UMBELLIFEROUS  plants  distinguished  by  a  but- 
terfly, 131. 
Underground  flowers,  178,  179. 

VEERY.     See  Thrush. 

Viburnum  family,  insect  specialists  on,  140. 

Violet: — A  candidate  for  "national  flower,"  182  ; 
albino  of,  176;  and  insect,  28;  bird-foot  (Vio- 
la pedata),  158,  170;  blue  (  V.  Cucullata),  Can- 
ada, 169;  cleistogamic  flowers  of,  178  ;  family, 


172;  shooting  seeds,  1 78;  spurred,  169;  yellow 
_ 169,  172,  174. 

Vireo:— Red-eyed,  64;  curious  nest  material  of, 
94,  101;  newspaper  fragments  in  nest,  94-96; 
"  politician,"  95;  solitary,  nest  material  of,  98; 
the  "preacher, "96;  warbling,  64. 

WARBLER:^Black  and  white  creeping,  106 ;  blue 
yellow-backed,  112;  blue-winged  yellow,  nest 
of,  114;  Kentucky,  nest  materials  of,  99;  Nash- 
ville, nest  materials  of,  99 ;  prairie,  99 ;  worm- 
eating,  nest  materials  of,  98  ;  yellow,  64 ;  nest 
of,  102,  104;  five-storied  nest  of,  114. 

Water-lily,  white,  169. 

Weasel,  54. 

Weeds,  significance  of,  67. 

Weevil,  pea,  135;  leaf-rolling,  135,  137. 

Whippoorwill,  52,64,72;  deceptive  antics  of,  So; 
nest  of,  in;  nest  and  brood,  161. 

White-alder.     See  Clethra. 

White-clover  ( Tri folium  repens).     See  Clover. 

\Vhite-thorn,  169. 

Whitlow-flower  (Draba  verna],  173. 

Whittier,  quoted,  56. 

Whortleberry,  169. 

Wild-bean  (Apios  tuberosa).     See  Ground-nut. 

Wild-bean  ( A  mphicarpaa ),  leaves  at  night,  16  ; 
subterranean  flowers  of,  179. 

Wild-carrot  (Daucus  carotd),  freak,  177. 

Wild-cat,  54. 

Wild-cherry,  169. 

Wild  flowers,  153-186;  and  cultivated  contrast- 
ed, JSS-i^S  ;  as  geological  indicators,  158;  of 
swamp,  157, 159;  fragrant,  168  ;  freaks  among, 
176;  white  or  albino  specimens,  176. 

Wild  garden  versus  conservatory,  153,  154. 

Wild-ginger  (Asarum  Canadensc],  48,  173. 

\Vild-grape,  fragrance  of,  52,  166,  169,  172. 

Wild-pink,  157. 

Wild-rose,  versus  cultivated,  154, 185;  as  the  "  na- 
tional flower,"  182  ;  at  night,  26. 

Willow,  169;  alpine,  127. 

W'illow  family  (Salix),  insect  experts  on,  141. 

Willow-herb  (Epilobiiim  angusti folium),  158; 
abnormal  varieties  of,  176. 

Wilson . — On  the  grouse,  83, 85 ;  on  the  nighthawk, 
79;  "  politician,"  95  ;  quoted,  104,  107, 114, 120. 

Wilson's  thrush.     See  Thrush. 

Wind-blown  seeds,  158. 

Wind-flowers.     See  Anemone. 

Winter  butterfly,  120. 

Winter  flowers,  175. 

Witch-hazel,  184;  odor  of,  163,  169;  odorous  at 
night,  50;  as  an  American,  182. 

Wood-betony  (Pedicularis  Canactensis),  160. 

Woodbine  honeysuckle,  32. 


distinguished  by  butterflies,  140;  fragrant,  170,  I  Wood-flowers,  156. 
25 


194 


INDEX. 


Woodpecker,  57;    enemies  of,  112;   nest  of,  97 ; 

golden-winged,  1 12;    red-headed,  nest  of,  in. 
Wood-sorrel,  at  night,  22. 
Wood-thrush,  64. 
Wool  in  bird-nest,  98. 
Wordsworth,  quoted,  16,  25,  29,  122. 
Wren,  64,  72;   nest  of,  97,  112;   golden  -  crested, 

nest  of,  113  ;  marsh,  nest  of,  113. 


YARROW,  pink,  176. 
Yellow-billed  cuckoo,  nest  of,  I IO. 
Yellow  foxglove.     See  False  foxglove. 
Yellow-hammer.     See  Flicker. 
Yellow  snapdragon.     See  Toad-flax. 
Yellow-throat,  Maryland,  72;  nest  of,  113. 
Yellow  warbler  (Dendroica  (Estiva),  64 ;  nest  of, 
102,  104;  five-storied  nest  of,  114. 


THE    END. 


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